


Mountains and Molehills

by profanedaisychain



Series: Thick as Thieves [2]
Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Language, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, but like in a T-rated way, canon divergence (season 3+ doesn't exist here y'all), capers, going hard on emotional torture so be aware things get R O U G H, our heroes won't die BUT I like to make it stressful, so injuries galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profanedaisychain/pseuds/profanedaisychain
Summary: Carmen Sandiego expects some growing pains when her two new teammates move in. What she doesn't expect, however, is the astonishing number of agents intent on keeping her from returning home to them.| Part 2 of the Thick as Thieves series | Please read Part 1 first - nothing will make sense otherwise |
Relationships: Julia "Jules" Argent/Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep
Series: Thick as Thieves [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950526
Comments: 55
Kudos: 146





	1. Shooting Carmen Sandiego

**Author's Note:**

> * * *
> 
> **THANK YOU's**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Plot Points/Capers/Overall Help:**  
>  wondering_writer  
> blueladybug  
> trixxster103  
> srdl1337
> 
> * * *
> 
> **VILE OCs:**  
>  oceanshadow25 _Nevermore_  
>  joshmspicer _Kindling_  
>  trixxster103 _Cam Eleon_  
>  ryuulu _Jester_  
>  milkywaydrinker _Vabank_
> 
> * * *
> 
> **ACME OCs:**  
>  blueladybug _To Be Named_
> 
> * * *
> 
> **[Thick as Thieves Series Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1zi43xvy2zmkHLMXop4DaO?si=JJS-_dg_Rby0gFfda6Aq_w)** \- _updating as writing continues_  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One, in which Devineaux fulfils a dream, and Julia tries to reconcile her new life and new fears.

* * *

  
Carmen leans back into the wall, trying to catch her breath. She glances around the corner; there is an overturned bureau straight ahead, right in front of a blown-apart doorway. Someone could easily use this as a vantage point, a way to keep visual while staying out of sight.

There are three doorways further down from that - two on the right, one on the left. Something small at the far end - a furnace? What the hell is that? - nestled among wreckage and waste.

Carmen's chest isn't thumping so loudly anymore. Her pursuer fell behind somewhere, unable to track her retreat. She lost track of them, too, so it's not exactly ideal - but her jacket is spotless, and that's all that matters.

Carmen slinks around the corner after a cautionary glance. She uses the wall to guide her through the flickering corridor, clenching the slender gun between her fingers a bit tighter.

 _Nice and easy,_ she reminds herself when she draws closer to the dresser, the perfect hiding place. _Keep low and stay quiet._

She takes her left hand free from the gun, easing it along the dresser as she slinks to the other side. She's prepared for an attack, but nothing happens. There's no one there - no one in the room beyond, either.

It doesn't make sense. There are four people in this warehouse, and Carmen hasn't seen anyone other than the slow attacker from earlier.

 _It's not like this place is that big,_ Carmen thinks, rechecking the hallway. It's silent. _If I'm skulking around here and everyone else left, I am going to be very annoyed._

She crouches in the shelter of the dresser, scanning both directions. The thing at the end of the hall catches her attention again. From this distance, it doesn't look like a furnace anymore. It doesn't look like anything more than a massive pile of intricately-placed trash.

Carmen focuses on the flickering lights. The pulses are random, but there's a slight rhythm to the randomness. _That means it is not random, and therefore possible to mimic,_ Shadowsan would tell her if he'd _deigned_ to come along.

Possible. _Barely_ possible, but there's a broad range within that word, Carmen supposes. She edges her way down the hall in the darker moments, but she mistimes her route. It results in her standing in the middle of the corridor, fully illuminated.

A projectile flies past her face; she ducks back, tripping over a pile of loose gypsum and hitting her shoulder against the wall. She blindly ducks, hears the next volley spray above her, and rolls into the momentary-safety of the closest room. Her hair is falling out of its bun and tickling the back of her neck, her cheeks, feeling like spiderwebs or someone's breath.

Carmen shudders while sliding her way into the back corner of the room, slipping behind an old bedframe. She flattens herself as much as she can, focusing. She can hear them; they're breathing too loudly. Their gait is loose, inexperienced.

_Telling._

Carmen grins and eases the gun into the holster on her thigh. She lowers herself under the bed frame, relaxing against the floor just as the man rounds the corner and enters the room. He's doing a terrible job of checking his blind spots, and that is going to cost him.

Carmen rolls out from under the bed. He hears her, but his focus goes to the bed, not the doorway she's crouched in.

It takes Carmen two seconds to launch herself across the floor, knocking his legs out from under him. A half-second for him to be on his back. Another second for Carmen to straddle his waist. A second for her gun to clear the holster and press against his jacket.

"Carm!" he yelps through his hood.

Carmen grins and pulls the trigger,

The red paint splatters across Zack's jacket. He yelps when the capsule hits even though there's no way he can feel it through the protected coat.

 _"Jeez,_ Carm," Zack groans. "You're freakin' terrifying."

"Shh, you're dead," Carmen reminds him, raising off of his waist and squatting in the doorway again, scanning the hallway. One down. Now to find -

"Where's your sister?" she breathes, chancing a glance over her shoulder. "Up here, or downstairs?"

"I'm not gonna tell ya where Ivy is!" he buzzes back; he's sitting up, frowning at the red splatter on his jacket. "I liked this jacket."

"The paints wash off, don't be a baby," she hums in response. "Upstairs or -- wait, why am I asking?" she glances out into the hallway. Too quiet. "She's up here, too."

Carmen slides across the hall and into the adjoining room. She checks a pile of old clothing that is oddly human-shaped, ready to attack.

It isn't Ivy, though, and Carmen left her back open too long. She slips into the shadows of the once-upon-a-time closet, waiting. No noises other than Zack shifting in the room she shot him in.

Carmen crosses back to the former room and glares at Zack - who has removed his hood and is currently yawning. "You. Are dead. Lay down and shush."

Zack rolls his eyes toward the ceiling but dutifully returns to his silent death pose. Carmen passes to the hallway. _How in the hell is it so quiet?_ Where's Devineaux? Surely he isn't being _stealthy_ somewhere - that'd be ridiculous.

Carmen glances down the hall. There's that damn pile of something at the end of the corridor. It's out of place - the entire warehouse looks like it's seen the aftermath of a hurricane, but that one pile...it's pristine. Precisely placed.

Carmen checks the other bedroom on her way to the end. It's empty, quiet, Ivy-less. _This is ridiculous,_ Carmen thinks as she follows the hallway.

The dark smudge of purposefully-arrange garbage turns out to be something like a refrigerator box covered with ratty blankets -- a perfect spot for a person to hide in relative comfort. Carmen slides her way around the crate, watching every footstep, timing every movement to keep her shadow as far away as she can.

She makes it to the box without alerting anyone. It's silent. Carmen grins and prepares her gun, tugging the cloth back and stepping into view of the --

Empty box.

Carmen blinks, stunned, and turns around - directly into Ivy coming down through the ceiling, her gun sliding perfectly between Carmen's defensive arms.

The paint hits - a terrible neon smear across her kevlar - and Carmen groans in anguish.

"Carmen Sandiego, gunned down so the criminals stay in business." Ivy strikes a pose, pulling her hood off and smirking. "Told ya I was gonna getcha someday."

"Please tell me we weren't recording that this year?" Carmen pretends to pout, glancing up at the camera in the corner.

"You know the answer to that, Red," Player chimes over their earpieces, finally allowing the practice to end. The target is down, after all.

"Where's Chase?" Carmen asks, retying her hair to get it out of her face.

"Still in the main room. He climbed up the rebar wall like a spider. Now he's up on the catwalk."

"He's...Devineaux climbed up to the ceiling for this?"

"Yep. He's still there."

Ivy makes a face. "Can he get down?"

"Unclear at this moment," Player admits. He sounds more amused than concerned, though, so Carmen doesn't go to high-alert right away.

 _In fact..._ Carmen grins and begins to slide out of her jacket. "Ivy, switch me."

 _"Not-uh,_ I got you fair and square. I'm not gonna walk around lookin' like I shot myself in the chest."

Carmen rolls her eyes and tugs Ivy closer, undoing her jacket. "It'll be worth it."

Ivy groans and allows Carmen to take her jacket; Carmen wraps it around herself, velcroing it into place. "Zack's in the other room - go get him, and head outside."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it! Just leave and act like you accidentally shot yourself," Carmen says as if it's nothing, shoving Ivy further down the hall.

Ivy finds Zack; the pair of them leave the upper floor, grumbling. Carmen skirts along behind until the stairwell, staying just out of view from the ceiling scaffolding. She waits until she hears Ivy and Zack leave the building.

And then she heads for the roof access.

The roof is windy and tosses her hair around - it is, again, sagging out of its bindings. Carmen ignores it, sliding across the roof and toward the small access panel into a crawl space.

She thinks about her next course of action. She considers her options. And then Carmen puts her gun in its holster, dropping down into the air duct with a soft 'thump'.

Soft, but not silent.

Carmen adds a little extra weight behind her shimmying, her jacket scraping across the surface. When she reaches the access hatch to the catwalk, she lingers there for a while, pretending to fumble with the screws.

When she has it open, Carmen grins. She hops down onto the scaffolding and directly in front of Chase Devineaux.

He pulls the trigger before she can quip. It surprises her, in all honestly - she kind of expected a monologue. _Carmen Sandiego, my sworn nemesis, la femme rouge! I have beaten you at long last!_ But no; there are no words - just a pulled trigger and blue, splattered paint.

The silence doesn't last long, though. _"Ah-hah!"_ Devineaux declares, lifting the paintball gun above his head. "I shot Carmen Sandiego!"

 _There it is_. "And here I thought I'd get another year without paint on my clothes," Carmen playfully laments, tossing a strand of hair from her face.

"I have a long, long career in this, Ms Sandiego," he says, standing a little taller.

"Do you have experience getting back down from here?" Carmen asks, loving how he immediately flushes. The thought must have occurred to him at some point that getting up here via the exposed rebar lattice would be easier than getting down.

Carmen flicks the device on her wrist, securing her grappling gun to the scaffolding and reaching out to Devineaux. He looks more concerned than he had before. "C'mon," Carmen gently prods. "If you're going to be in the field, we might need to do this on no notice."

"Your teacher seemed to think we would not be going on missions together."

"Shadowsan is looking out for me," Carmen repeats for the third time. "Just...do a few runs with him. He's a good guy, and you could probably learn something from him." Catching herself before Devineaux can take offence, she adds, "And he can learn things from you, I'm sure."

She wiggles her fingers; Devineaux takes them and allows her to wrap an arm around his waist. "You'll probably want to hang on a little tighter," she informs him.

His fingers grip her waist, finally realising what they're doing, and Carmen guides them off the side of the catwalk.

Devineaux is very vocally _not-a-fan_ of the process, shouting a very explicit series of words against her ear when the first jolt on the line sharply tugs them.

When their feet hit the ground, Devineaux is quick to depart. He looks a little green for someone who risked life and limb to climb a crumbled wall for a simple game of three-against-one.

"Nice job," she tells him again with a little smile. "I told you paintball wouldn't be that bad."

"I merely thought it would be a waste of my talents," he blusters, but she knows he's only protecting whatever machismo thing he has going on, so she lets it slide.

With Devineaux, she's come to realise, it's better to pick your battles.

They both leave through the main door, but part ways right after. Devineaux heads for the sunlit street outside of the warehouse; Carmen follows a small corridor to a back room with the recording equipment.

The displays are on, the feeds live and crystal-clear. That's normal - but what isn't normal is the fact that Julia isn't in the room. "Jules?" Carmen calls, returning to the main lobby. "Jules?" she tries again, leaning back into the paintball course.

"She went outside a bit ago," Player says, voice softer than she expects. "I think she got a little...overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?" Carmen repeats, shrugging out of her kevlar jacket.

"I don't think she particularly enjoyed seeing you get shot."

"With paint?"

Player doesn't respond; the silence is oppressive. Carmen shakes her head, pushing her confusion to the side. She follows Devineaux's path and comes out into the late-afternoon sun. The siblings and Devineaux are already in the car; Zack is grumbling something about Devineaux's knees pressing into the back of the seat too hard.

Julia, on the other hand, is leaning against the building with her head tilted up to the sun. There's a decent beading of sweat on her brow.

"Hey," Carmen greets. "Sorry, that session was a little less exciting than others."

"No, it isn't that," Julia smiles, wincing through the blinding light. "I had to get some air. It's a bit stuffy in the little room."

Carmen had thought it was a bit chilly, to be honest, but she's worked up a bit of a sweat in the kevlar. Maybe the room _had_ been stuffy. "I need a shower, but I thought we could try that Thai place...? Get out of the house for a bit?"

Julia looks wistful. "A quiet dinner would be nice."

Carmen is once again reminded that Julia lost everything only two weeks ago. That her quiet life, her little apartment that she loved, her favourite coffee place to eat croissants with Devineux...they're all gone.

Her _mother._

Gone.

Carmen looks away and down the street. The sidewalk outside of the boardwalk is bustling, the evening workers going in and the morning shift coming out. Carmen leans in a little closer to Julia, murmuring, "I was thinking..."

"You are always thinking," Julia teases; there's a little of her usual sunshine. "Sometimes I wonder if you do anything other than think."

"This is turning a little hostile."

"For example," she continues, tugging Carmen's tee, pulling her closer, "you could stop thinking and reassure me that you didn't just get shot by one of our friends."

"Chase shot me, too," Carmen grins, leaning in a little more, pressing a kiss to the woman's lips. "Ready to head back?"

Julia nods; her smile is a little truer this time.

* * *

  
The dinner is enough to soothe Julia's anxious heart. Carmen is more relaxed than she's been in days - sitting around headquarters hasn't been her cup of tea, after all. But Player and Shadowsan insist that they lie low until ACME moves away from the west coast.

 _It should not be long,_ Shadowsan promised the redhead yesterday. _Their only lead was your call to Julia, and that call was months ago. The phone was destroyed. The cell tower was in Seattle. Player is keeping an eye on them; the second they move, we will know. The second they leave to regroup, we will be back to business as usual._

The words didn't soothe her yesterday, but the game of paintball seems to have taken the edge off.

Julia enjoys her food - and enjoys some of Carmen's. The other woman pretends to be affronted by this, but grins the entire time, her head ducked low and her eyes mischievous.

Julia loves seeing her like this. It makes her forget about everything else for a few moments at a time.

They walk home, Julia's arm on Carmen's waist, a thumb hanging on a belt loop. They walk a lot -Julia suspects she's done more of it these past weeks than she had in her Interpol training courses. It's nice, and the exercise makes Carmen less uneasy about being cooped up in San Diego.

She's kind of like a work-dog, Julia realises as they walk. It makes her bite her cheek to keep from grinning. Something mischevious and too intelligent for its own good.

She might have to look into dog breeds just for the hell of it.

A siren whines through the air and Julia freezes, nearly dislocating her thumb when Carmen follows through with her step and yanks Julia's hand. The woman turns, concerned, and Julia forces the millionth smile. "Sorry. I was in my own head, and..."

The look in Carmen's eyes is getting sharper. She's getting less and less convinced with each half-lie Julia concocts. "What's going on?" she asks, gently drawing Julia against a building and away from the people on the sidewalk.

"It's nothing."

"It's not."

Julia glances away, watches the wailing, flashing police vehicle scream by. "I suppose I am a little on edge when I hear sirens now."

Carmen's expression softens a bit. "Jules..."

 _Everything is fine,_ Julia assumes she's going to say. _No one knows we're here. We have tons of safeguards in place. We have Player and his networks. I promise you; nothing is going to happen._

But she doesn't say that. She pulls Julia into a hug, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Jules."

She shakes her head, but her throat is sealing up just like it does every time she faces the horrible, clawing panic in her chest, the pit in her stomach, the --

_the memory of being in that interrogation room. Of hearing that Carmen's location was compromised. That ACME was moving in. Of seeing the look on Chief's face, her absolute surety that Carmen Sandiego was about to be in handcuffs, and it was all Julia's fault._

_The nonstop light. So much light._

Julia doesn't talk about any of this because there's no point. Carmen has seen horrible and terrible things. She's done some, as well. But Carmen is adjusted - Carmen can handle everything life throws at her. And here is Julia, clinging to her like a damned koala because she can't deal with the sound of a siren.

Julia breathes in the scent of Carmen's hair - the slightly spicy smell of her shampoo and the woodsy perfume of curling cream - and relaxes a little. She focuses on Carmen's pulsing jugular until her own heart matches the smooth beats.

"Are you ready to go home?" Carmen asks after a few more moments.

"Only if you draw me a bath."

"Can I join?"

Julia's smile is a little steadier when she pulls back. "I suppose. Only if you requisition some wine without Devineaux noticing."

"Oof, that's a task," Carmen teases - Devineaux is quite fond of Carmen's taste in wine and has a habit of keeping a hawkish eye on the bottles.

"It is a very good thing that you have those fingers of yours." Carmen's brows raise and Julia winces, flushing. "I didn't -- you _know_ what I meant!"

"No take-backs, babe," is her flippant response, pulling Julia around and kissing her temple, leading her toward home.  
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> were you up all night  
> [afraid of what the future might bring?](https://open.spotify.com/track/0gqxf8wrEkewjmZB7OT4mL)


	2. Southbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, in which a lazy Sunday afternoon turns tense.

* * *

  
Sundays are becoming one of Carmen's favourite times of the week. Sunday has always been Team Red's unofficial day of rest and, while Carmen didn't appreciate the quiet, lazy days _before_ her new roommates, she certainly does now.

It helps that she's come into a bit of a routine.

While the others stay in bed, she and Shadowsan go for a run along the boardwalk and down to the beach. Her mentor doesn't seem to notice a difference from running on paths or shifting sand; he never tires, never eases. It makes Carmen push herself more than she usually would. It makes her focus on nothing but the beat of her heart and whatever song is blaring through her earbuds.

(When Shadowsan calls for them to turn back this morning, his mouth movements somehow sync with Cardi B's vocals. He doesn't understand why Carmen giggles intermittently through the six miles back to the warehouse.)

Back at home, Zack is usually on the couch with cereal or on the couch snoring. This morning, it is the latter.

After her shower, Carmen curls into bed behind Julia and tries to fall asleep. It doesn't work - the fresh air and the shower make her buzz like a livewire. The snuggling tends to turn into another version of the activity - ending with Julia taking a shower and Carmen wrangling food.

By this point in the late morning, Devineaux is awake. He plays jazz - something that surprised Carmen at first, while also not surprising her at all. It's moody and beautiful, stirring the air from his bedroom and filtering like a mist through the warehouse.

By the time Ivy comes in - usually from the garage, sometimes from the gym - she loudly proclaims some version of, "Alright, _alright,_ we get it! It's Sunday morning! Can we get some _real_ music now?"

To which Zack will oblige with the surround-sound set up on the television, drowning out Devineaux's jazz with classic rock or - on occasion, just to be terrors - the loudest, angriest metal they can find.

Devineaux still pretends it annoys him, but Julia seems to think that it's mostly an act on his part. That maybe he's starting to fall into the routine. That perhaps he's starting to _enjoy_ being around their antics, their energy.

 _But just a bit._ Just enough to keep him from losing his mind every second. Just enough that Carmen has caught a little twitch of a smile before it gets stifled with a scoff or quip.

"This is impossible," Julia mumbles from the island countertop where she is in the process of crushing tomatoes - _trying_ to crush tomatoes. Carmen glances over her shoulder from where she is cutting corn tortillas and preparing them for the oven. The smaller woman is in the process of trying to pull tomatoes apart with her hands and making a mess of it.

"You could always use a knife?" Carmen offers. "Or a blender...or most anything else, really."

"If I use the blender then I risk ruining the texture," she mutters. Carmen thinks she catches a shudder go down Julia's spine when the tomato she's holding makes an obscene noise between her fingers.

Carmen moves behind her - standing a little too close, of course, loving how Julia's ears still go red with unexpected proximity. The woman leans back into her, though, and willingly lets Carmen take her hands. The tomato - what's left of it - plops into the cutting board.

"Pick up the knife," Carmen murmurs against her ear.

Julia's swallow is audible. "I will cut my fingers off if I do."

"I won't let you."

"You are the reason I would."

Carmen chuckles against her hair before grabbing the knife. Arms still around Julia, she slowly begins to dice. "Keep your pointer finger here along the top to keep it steady," Carmen murmurs. "And your other hand like this. If you curl your fingers, you won't cut yourself."

"I cound manage it."

"I have faith in you," Carmen purrs, dicing a little faster, loving how Julia lets out a low sound of amazement.

God, she's glad she took an interest in culinary skills. "Grab the jalapenos," Carmen directs when she finishes with the chunky tomato paste. "Got those gloves?"

Julia takes the supplied gloves, sliding them over her slender fingers. She wiggles them, slowly exhales, and takes the knife from Carmen. "This is fine, Julia," she tells herself, squaring her shoulders. "They are only peppers."

"That's my girl," Carmen praises before departing. She returns to her chip-making, listening while Julia mumbles to herself in French. Carmen can only hear half of what she's saying, but she catches a few curses she's never heard from the sweet-faced angel.

Carmen slides the oiled tortilla pieces into the oven, turning to find Julia putting the salsa together. The jalapenos aren't cut as small as Carmen would like, but she leaves that to herself. "Nice job," Carmen compliments while she dashes cumin into the mix.

Julia removes her gloves and throws them away. She returns, though, pressing a kiss to Carmen's shoulder above the slouching neckline of her shirt. Her arms slide around Carmen's waist, her kisses grazing along Carmen's exposed upper back.

Carmen's hand stalls. She adds a little too much garlic powder, but she manages to screw the cap back into place without dropping the container. It is more than she expects, given that one of Julia's hands glides under her shirt, smoothing across her hip. She even succeeds in stirring the salsa together in spite of Julia's rebellious hand easing up her side.

Carmen breaks, though. She always breaks because Julia knows how to press her buttons. It's impressive and infuriating how quickly Carmen's brain turns to a hot puddle of mush. She turns and grabs Julia's waist, hoisting her onto the island, bumping spices down.

Julia's soft giggle brushes Carmen's cheek; she wiggles closer while Carmen trails kisses along her bare neck. "The chips," Julia whispers.

Carmen nips her earlobe. "The timer will go off."

"We're not exactly being discreet."

"You started it," Carmen reminds her, but begins to pull away. Julia's legs come up to wrap around Carmen's hips, keeping her where she is. "You're giving some mixed messages," Carmen smirks, a hand sliding up the woman's leg.

"Am I?" Julia murmurs, voice too innocent. Her mouth pouts; her eyes hood. Carmen shakes her head with a soft laugh - damn does this girl know how to get at her. Carmen's lucky as hell that Julia wasn't _actually_ hunting her for ACME.

Julia uses Carmen's shirt to tug her up and into a lingering kiss. Julia's tongue brushes Carmen's lower lip, requesting access, when Carmen's phone begins to ring.

Carmen groans; Julia tightens her legs around Carmen's waist. "Ignore it?" she softly asks. Begs.

Carmen can't say no to her - it's probably just Player with his daily check-in call.

The phone goes quiet, but immediately rings again right as Carmen's hands smooth across Julia's back, under her shirt. Carmen curses hotly; Julia reluctantly releases her grip, and Carmen stalks across the kitchen to answer the phone.

"What?" she asks, trying very hard to keep her irritation to herself.

The irritation is gone once she hears Player's voice. He's anxious, the concern ringing free from the moment he utters, "Red, there's news." Carmen turns her back to Julia, who is sliding off of the island and cleaning up the spices.

"What happened?" she asks.

"ACME's on the move." Carmen's breathing doesn't change, but her fingers curl around the mobile a little harder. "They have some new faces - sending them to your phone now."

Carmen doesn't look yet - she keeps the phone in place, keeps herself breathing, keeps her voice even. "And?"

"They're heading south."

"Timeframe?"

Player goes quiet, and then he asks, "Is Julia there?"

"Yep."

"...You're going to tell her, aren't you?"

Carmen bites her lower lip and listens to the silence. Finally she murmurs, "ETA?"

"Carmen."

She hates when he uses her name. "I know, and I will. But right now, could you give me the details?"

Player sighs. There's a rush of static on his end - probably him running a hand over his face. "Agent Zari and her partner are heading north toward British Columbia. Two more agents I don't know are on their way south."

"Completely new faces?"

"Yeah. Trying to get some information on them now; I'll let you know when I turn something up, but..." he pauses. "I give them two weeks or so before they make it to San Diego."

"That's not too bad," Carmen says; she can feel Julia's attention boring holes into her back. "Could be worse."

"Just...be careful?"

"You worry too much," Carmen laughs; it comes out wry. "Thanks, Player."

"Sure thing, Red. Keep your phone nearby."

"I always do."

Carmen ends the call and turns to Julia, forcing a smile. She's pretty sure that it doesn't waver, but the guilt flares before she can compose a lie.

 _It's okay to lie if you're protecting her,_ Carmen tries to rationalise.

As usual, the other side of Carmen is not pleased and makes it well-known. _You're no better than everyone else from VILE isle if you keep this from her. If you do this...  
_

_She'll never forgive you._

"Carmen?"

Julia's concern knits her brows together. She takes a few steps, but Carmen interrupts whatever she might say. "Let's go to the bedroom."

Julia flushes. "But lunch! We still have to make-"

"Don't worry about it," Carmen smiles, turning her path toward their room. She can hear Julia padding along behind her.

Ivy curiously glances up from the couch where she is tapping away on her phone. "Was that Player callin'?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you about it in a bit. Can you keep an eye on the chips? Thanks," she adds before Ivy can further question.

She closes the door behind Julia and sits on the edge of the bed. Julia's expression has grown increasingly worried, but she doesn't immediately question when she sits beside Carmen.

Carmen takes Julia's hands in hers. "I need to tell you something." Julia watches her - silent, impassive. She already knows somewhere deep within her, Carmen thinks. It's in the way her hands are already tightening on Carmen's. How her nails dig in a little too much. How she bites the inside of her cheek and --

"ACME is moving on from Seattle."

Julia swallows and looks away, gaze sweeping to the windows. "When did they leave?"

"Today. Zari and her partner are going north; two new agents are coming south."

"New agents," Julia repeats. "To replace us. Devineaux and me."

"Yeah."

Julia forces a smile - it's painful to watch because it doesn't reach her eyes. "I suppose it was only a matter of time."

Carmen doesn't understand; she's fairly sure her expression is betraying that. "Jules..." She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know if there's anything she can say. "Please don't hide from me," she finishes finally.

Julia winces. "I am right here."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I do not think I do."

Carmen keeps her mouth closed for a moment and focuses on breathing. She focuses on the corner of Julia's mouth, how the muscles tense, how her jaw is tight. She isn't blinking, staring hotly toward the floor.

"It's okay to be scared."

"That is easy to say for Carmen Sandiego. You feel no fear."

Carmen can't keep to herself anymore; she reaches out to gently pull Julia around, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. "You know how I like to walk down the pier with coffee three times a day? It isn't because I want to be on a dock drinking coffee. I am checking all of the boats, all of the people, all of the marinas.

"I am in a constant state of readiness because I am _always_ terrified." She gently removes Julia's glasses and sets them further up the bed. Her thumbs brush tears from Julia's cheeks. "But this isn't about me.

"You, Julia Argent, have been thrust into an insane situation surrounded by insane people. Two different agencies would love to see us in jail - or dead, in some cases. You've lost a life you loved, a promising career, your _mother."_ Julia's breath hitches in a hiccuping sob. "Baby, you can be scared, I just...please don't hide from me."

Julia presses herself into Carmen's arms; Carmen holds her close and strokes her hair, trying to keep her own emotions down. Julia doesn't need to see her like this. Not right now.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a thousand words pouring out  
> [(you said it'd be alright)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkb28sWHlKg)
> 
>   
> 


	3. Easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three, in which Julia and Carmen have a very uncomfortable conversation.

* * *

  
Carmen usually doesn't sleep well, but it's gotten better with Julia nearby.

Most of the time, anyway.

Carmen winces through half-lidded eyes, grumbling when she realises that Julia is on her tablet, the screen too bright for the dark room.

"Jules," Carmen mumbles; Julia starts, wide eyes turning to Carmen.

"Go back to sleep," she soothes, but Carmen wiggles closer. She rests her chin on Julia's shoulder, glancing at the screen.

A copy of chatter from the dark web. Julia swipes it away, but the document that replaces it is a list of police reports from the west coast.

"What are you doing?" Carmen asks, the worry building again. It's been two days since their talk. Since Julia promised to stop keeping things to herself.

"I thought I could be useful and go through a few reports."

"And where did you get these reports?"

Julia rests the tablet on her stomach and raises a brow at Carmen. "Carmen Sandiego, I never expected you to be the jealous lover type, checking devices over shoulders." Carmen almost flinches, but Julia's tone is light, teasing. A little of her old self.

"Besides," Julia continues, "this way, I can keep my mind from atrophying, and Player can have a small break."

Carmen groans at that. She has a point, but Carmen hates it. "Fine," she mumbles, grazing a kiss to Julia's shoulder, the pale constellations of freckles. "But, not at two in the morning. Two in the morning is not for this." She takes Julia's tablet in spite of the woman's weak protests. Carmen raises up to reach over, depositing the device on Julia's end table.

"I'm not tired," is Julia's slightly embarrassed, slightly obstinate response.

"Let me work on that," Carmen murmurs, a hand sliding into Julia's mussed locks, pulling her into open-mouthed kisses.  
  


* * *

  
The scream is a sudden shriek of noise piercing through the air. Carmen flies to her feet, one hand going to her bedside light, the other to the knife in her end table.

But the room is empty aside from Julia, who is sitting against the headboard, staring vacantly, horrified and panting.

"Jules," Carmen breathes, dropping the knife onto the table, sliding back onto the bed and pulling the woman into her arms. Julia doesn't say anything; she's trembling, and her teeth are chattering. She feels hot, though, sweat beading at her hairline.

The door opens; Shadowsan enters, his stern face openly concerned, openly on the offensive. His stance loosens when he sees that nothing is wrong.

"Bad dream," Carmen offers an awkward smile. "We’re fine."

Shadowsan raises a brow at her. "I will make tea."

"Shadowsan-" But he's already gone, shutting the door behind him with the softest of clicks. She refocuses her attention on the woman in her arms. “Deep breaths, okay? It was just a dream.”

Julia, face pressed against Carmen's bicep, shakily exhales. "It was not a very pleasant one."

"Didn’t sound like it, no," Carmen murmurs, lips against her temple. "The usual?"

"They killed you in front of me."

Carmen doesn't ask which organisation happened to finish her off this time. Given the glassy, guilty look on Julia's face, she assumes it was ACME.

"I'm sorry," Carmen says because she can't think of anything else.

"It was only a dream." Julia's smile is wan when she pulls away. "I am fine, it just…startled me."

Carmen tugs her back; Julia weakly chuckles, leaning into her. They sit together, listening while Devineaux - loudly - makes rounds of the building just to be sure that everything is fine.

Another knock on their door makes Julia tense. "It's just Shadowsan," Carmen assures her.

He enters with a mug. Julia sits up to accept it, but before Shadowsan leaves, he furrows his brows at Carmen. "I would like to speak with you before you return to bed."

Carmen nods; Shadowsan ducks out, shutting the door again. Carmen sits with Julia, stroking damp fringe from Julia’s forehead while she drinks the tea. It's too quiet, so Carmen hums a bit. It's out of tune, as usual, but the sound seems to pacify Julia's trembling.

Or it's the tea doing the calming. Carmen recognises the smell of it - Shadowsan used to make the same concoction for the new students when they couldn't sleep.

And for her when she was younger. When she was small and had the occasional night terror.

Carmen presses a kiss to Julia's head when the woman finishes her tea, curling with her on the pillows. Julia falls asleep in mere minutes. Carmen stays with her for a while longer, gritting her teeth past the impending conversation.

She can't ignore Shadowsan forever, though, so Carmen moves slowly, climbing out of bed as quietly as she can. When she comes into the kitchen, Shadowsan is waiting. He prepares two more mugs without a word, passing one her way. "Tell me."

Carmen purses her lips. "It was a nightmare."

"So I assumed."

He's watching her with _that look._ The one he levelled at her whenever she said or did something stupid, whenever she was being willfully ignorant. It makes her skin crawl and the hairs on her arms prickle. "Say what you want to say."

"What I want is for you to realise that you cannot save her on your own."

"There's nothing to save her from!" Carmen snaps - a little louder than she should, a little more heated than she wants. But the words come out anyway. A part of her delights in the way her voice carries, the anger. "She's _fine!_ She's here, with us, and nothing is going to happen to her. None of us will _let_ anything happen to her."

"If that is the case, then why are we all awake at this moment?"

Carmen swallows. "It's a nightmare, Shadowsan - us normal people have those sometimes. It's nothing."

 _"Nothing_ does not rouse everyone from their sleep every fourth night. _Nothing_ does not make a strong woman flinch each time a car horn blares."

Carmen clenches her fists and sets her jaw. "Can we not do this right now?"

"And when would you have us do this?" he asks, voice quiet, controlled.

"Don't-" Carmen's voice raises without her meaning for it to. She bites her tongue and closes her eyes, counting to five. "What do you suggest, then? You drug her tea every night?" Shadowsan narrows his eyes at her; Carmen instantly regrets her words. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Shadowsan says nothing, watching her with an expressionless face. Finally, he takes his mug of tea and begins to leave the kitchen. "Goodnight, Carmen," he bids - the farewell makes something in Carmen's stomach ache.

He's just trying to help. That's all he's ever done.

Carmen waits until he's upstairs and then takes her own mug. She sips the hot liquid as she passes back into the bedroom, still lit by her side lamp. Julia doesn't stir, her breath even.

Carmen stands beside the bed, watching the woman while drinking her scalding tea. She watches Julia's lids flutter with a dream. She analyses how soft and smooth the woman's face is now that she's eased into a fitful sleep.

Carmen hasn't seen this level of peace on her in quite a while. It makes her stomach turn with something acidic, realising that Shadowsan is right. Because _of course_ he's right. He prides himself on always being the one with the answers.

Carmen goes into the bathroom and washes her face. Her brain is going a bit fuzzy, but she manages to loiter in front of the mirror long enough to have a stern monologue with herself.

_She deserves better than waking up in night sweats and thinking you're dead._

_She deserves to feel safe in her home._

_She deserves better than you can offer her._

"Damnit," she mumbles, leaving her half-drunk tea on the bathroom counter and stumbling into the bedroom. She lays down beside Julia, pressing her face against the woman's shoulder blades, and falls asleep without turning the light off.  
  


* * *

  
Julia wakes up to the late-morning sun bouncing watery reflections from the bay into the bedroom. It's lovely the way the little lights shimmer along the far wall; they hit replica paintings - and the Meiji bust that Julia has almost knocked over three times - and make everything look like it’s moving.

She begrudgingly gets to her feet, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and pulls her glasses on. The house is completely silent - an odd feat. Carmen must have dragged the siblings to the market.

Devineaux, too, probably.

Wrapping herself in her robe - _Carmen's_ robe, technically; it, like Carmen's slippers, was 'stolen' relatively early into their cohabitation - Julia leaves the bedroom. She's surprised to find Carmen sitting on the couch, watching a televised political hearing...for some reason.

"Hey," Carmen greets; her smile is slightly off, slightly too-bright.

Julia isn't sure what to focus on first, so she murmurs, "Are the others...?"

"They're out setting up some extra security measures around the harbour," Carmen replies, getting to her feet.

Julia doesn't like this. The entire warehouse doesn't empty out at one time, and the sudden lack of noise - other than a congresswoman grilling a CEO on the television - is concerning. "Carmen, what is going on?"

Carmen's too-cheery face softens. "There's some food in the kitchen. I'm going to draw you a bath."

 _"Carmen,"_ Julia repeats, firmer this time. She puts her hands on her hips - the pose somehow gets Julia her way on occasion, and this seems like an appropriate time to test out its powers.

Like magic, Carmen sighs and returns to the couch. She mutes the ill-prepared CEO's fumbling and then pats the sofa.

 _We need to talk_ situations aren't really part of Julia's wheelhouse. She's glad that they're alone, but it somehow makes things even worse. She thinks about teasing, _is this a breakup conversation?_

It isn't. She knows it isn't. But that doesn't help her stomach and how it flips around when she sits on the couch.

"I don't know how to do things like this," Carmen begins slowly. "I'm not really...used to these types of things." Julia's joke about a breakup conversation is suddenly seeming way less like a joke, and that makes her stomach flip faster.

"I think..." Carmen closes her eyes, purses her lips. "I _know_ that things are weird right now, and you went through some stuff that no one-"

"I am fine."

Carmen opens her eyes - the blue-greys are less stormy than usual, a little duller. "Jules...I want to help you. I want to make it so that you can sleep through the night without worrying, or having nightmares, or..." Carmen swallows. "I _want_ to help you, but I _can't._ I don't know how. I don't...I'm not the person you need right now."

Julia can't help that her eyes widen or her breath stalls. Oh dear God, she really is breaking up with her. "I...I don't understand," Julia whispers.

"I need you to agree to go to counselling."

Julia opens her mouth and then closes it. Counselling. _Counselling_ is not at all what Julia thought was coming. It's not an excellent topic, of course, but comparatively...

A helpless, wry chuckle slips through her lips, and she reaches up to stifle it. Carmen doesn't anticipate this; her brows raise and then furrow. "Not the reaction I prepared for, gotta be honest."

Julia removes her hand from her mouth to run it through her messy locks. "I merely thought...I assumed this was a different kind of conversation, given how it started."

Carmen thinks about it, and then she flushes. _"No!_ No, I’m just...I'm _really_ bad at this." She takes a deep breath, exhales, and then continues, "What ACME did to you...I don't understand it. I don't know why..." Carmen's fingers curl in on each other. "What they did to you cracked something. We need to find a way to help heal it."

Julia doesn't argue even though she wants to. Even though she wants to go on pretending that it's reasonable to wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath, mentally picturing blood pouring from a gunshot wound to her lover's head. Even though -

"I am not broken, Ms Sandiego."

"Damn right you're not. But you're not at your best, either, and I want to help you fix that." Carmen reaches out to Julia, and Julia goes to her even though she wants to fight. She wants to yell, to stand up for herself.

But she's so damned _tired._

Julia lets Carmen hug her. She lets the spicy, sweet smell of Carmen's hair soothe her. She lets her words sink in. Finally, she murmurs, "Our lives are hardly conducive to civilian therapy."

"True, but we're damn good at dancing around the truth, wouldn't you say?"

Julia would say that, yes. She lingers in Carmen's arms, feeling numb. Alone. She feels like Carmen is giving up on her, pawning her off. She knows she's being silly, but it doesn't stop her chest from going a little colder. "I will go to counselling," Julia begins, voice stilted, "if you do, too."

Carmen stiffens, but she doesn't let go. She's quiet for a very long time before murmuring, "You'll go if I go?"

The word sticks in her throat, but Julia manages to croak, _"Oui."_

Carmen presses a rough kiss to Julia's jaw. "Then it's a date. A really, really messy one."

Julia smiles a little. "About that bath?"

"Bubbles?"

"All of the bubbles," Julia agrees.

Carmen kisses her, brushing her hair from her forehead and meeting her gaze. She smiles - it's soft and real. "Thank you, Jules."

Julia's throat seals up. She nods, unable to vocalise. Carmen understands, though. She gives one more kiss before getting to her feet and heading for the bathroom.

Once she's gone, Julia's head sinks into her upturned palms. A sharp breath breaks past her lips, but she manages not to cry.

That's something, she supposes.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me it gets easier  
> [that I'll figure it out](https://open.spotify.com/track/2LdjytPhudo6BApaD5VYlC?si=DZ-zVqa4RciLhHrt8J_UNQ)


	4. The Lost Village Caper (1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four, in which we begin the Lost Village caper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Trixxster103 for the OC! Super excited to write more Cam Eleon in the next two chapters!!💜

* * *

  
Carmen ducks under Devineaux's elbow, flowing around his side, jamming her knee up and into his thigh as she passes. He stumbles, the leg deadening, and lets out a long string of curses while he rights himself.

"You are too small!" he complains. "Like a -- like a _fish!_ You dart around!"

"So fight me like it," Carmen explains - again - loosening her stance and fixing her hair while the man massages his thigh. "Besides, it's not my fault you keep lumbering around like a bear."

 _"Un ours,"_ Devineaux grumbles, evidently not pleased by the correlation. _"Cet ours qui va mange ton visage."_

"Did you just threaten to eat my face?" Carmen asks, unable to tamp down her grin. "Goodness, Chase - keep on like this and I'll start to wonder if we're friends."

Another scoff from the man, but he doesn't argue anymore. He shakes himself off, rolling his neck and producing two very loud cracks from the bones. "Alright, Ms Sandiego-"

Her phone buzzes from the weight bench. Carmen moves toward it without any hesitation; her heart isn't into the lesson, anyway. "Break for fifteen?” she asks Chase, who seems more than happy for the interruption. Answering the phone, Carmen greets, “Hey, Player. What's up?"

"Do you want the bad news, or the _I-don't-know-if-this-is-good-or-bad_ news?"

Carmen narrows her eyes, moving toward the kitchen for a glass of water. "The definitively bad news first, I guess?"

"I've got some VILE chatter. Looks like they're planning a little something in Lincolnshire, England this time around."

Carmen groans, wanting nothing more than to ask for details. God, she wants out of this warehouse. She wants out of California. The United States. But she has to be good - she promised everyone that she would lay low until ACME isn't an immediate threat state-side.

"Really?" Player suddenly interrupts the silence on the line. "Not a single question?"

"You know I want to."

"Then you should."

He sounds too cheerful - it makes Carmen's chest flutter with excitement. "Where's ACME right now?"

"That's the maybe-good, maybe-bad news..." Player pauses for a moment. "Zari and her partner are still in BC."

"And the two heading south?"

"They got on a flight in San Francisco today - with a different pair of fake passports and no return tickets. As far as I can tell, they're off to Dubai for three days, followed by Asmara indefinitely."

"Asmara?" Carmen repeats, drawing a complete blank.

"Capital city of Eritrea, in Africa," Player fills in. She can hear him clicking through his screens. "Best known for its architecture, education, and lush highlands. Asmara has the sixth-highest elevation for a capital city, in fact."

"Oh good, because I have such a great track record with high elevation," Carmen grins wryly. "ACME is interested in it because...?"

"Not sure. Yet." Carmen's phone tings softly in her ear. "I just sent you some security footage from the airport. Our agents decided to ditch the suits for tourist gear."

"Odd," Carmen muses, pulling the phone from her ear, "Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker." The security footage is crystal clear. The handsome pair - both dark-skinned, both with similar angular jaws - enter the bathrooms. When they reemerge ten minutes later, the woman has an oversized pair of sunglasses and a sundress. The man, likewise, is sporting a pair of slacks and a casual button-down.

 _"Very_ odd," Carmen corrects.

More files slide across; she watches the pair stride through the airport, get processed by security, and then wander the terminals. They eat McDonald's - at different tables. They buy a book, three magazines, and two sodas from a duty-free store - in separate purchases. And then they sit in the terminal - but not together. When they board their flight, the man goes first while the woman waits to be the last passenger.

"What the hell?"

"No idea," Player replies.

"You think they decided to just bounce? ACME got too intense too fast?"

"I mean, we can't rule it out, I guess…"

"But not likely."

"Nah." Player waits a moment and then presses, "ACME isn't in California, so...?"

It hits Carmen all in one go - a swift kick to her belly that makes her gasp, "House arrest is over."

"Ding-ding-ding."

"House arrest is over!" she repeats - loudly. She trots into the living room, foregoing the water, and flips her laptop open, tapping it to life. "I'm going to call you back after screaming for a little bit, sound good?"

"Sounds good," Player laughs. "Don't take too long - I have a jet for you, Ivy, and Zack leaving the airstrip at midnight."

Carmen glances at the time at the corner of her computer screen. Six hours. Six hours isn't much time. "Right."

"I also have a camping spot set up for the three of you. It was a last-minute thing, though, so you're kind of...sharing the spot with someone else."

Carmen freezes. "Wait. We're...camping? And we're sharing the camping spot?"

"Yeah - lots to unpack, so maybe grab the others and we'll chat about it during the round-table?"

"Why am I going camping, Player?" she presses.

"Because it's a three-day music festival in the woods. With costumes."

Carmen leans back into the couch, looking up at the exposed brick. "What could VILE possibly want at an outdoor music festival?" She shakes her head. "Nevermind - I'll grab the others and we can go through everything then."

She hangs up before Player can say anything else. She texts everyone to come home as soon as possible before checking the weather in Lincolnshire, England.  
  


* * *

  
"Kinda thought it'd be raining," Zack says the moment they step out of the airport. He winces up through the patches of blinding light breaking through the clouds. "Are we sure we got off at the right place?"

"Yep," Player speaks up across their shared link, buzzing in their ears like a pleasant gnat. "If you turn around and look up, you'll notice a sign welcoming you to Heathrow Airport."

Carmen absently glances up from her phone to watch Zack actually turn. "Holy crap!" he proclaims when he finds said-sign. "Do you _actually_ have eyes everywhere?" He glances around, squinting at the closest camera with concerning intensity.

"Don't stare at the security cameras," Carmen chides, clicking through her email and re-verifying the exclusive invite's directions.

"I have an entire warehouse of monitors linked up to all security feeds all over the world, yes," Player is saying.

Zack looks sceptical. "That doesn't sound right."

"Because it's not," Ivy grumbles, shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the next. She’s grumpy from the flight and not bothering to filter her irritation. "Ride almost here, Carm?"

"Half a kilometre away," Carmen replies, composing a 'quick' text to Julia. 

_We landed. Off to save the day - xoxo_

Her thumb hesitates above the ‘send’ button. The message doesn't seem like enough. Carmen deletes the words, faltering all over again. Why is this so hard? Why can't she just figure out what to say?

_Hey, babe. I hope you're doing_

Delete.

_Jules, made it to London. We're off to save the_

That's the same crap as before. God, why is this...

Hey, babe. We're in London  
_I miss you  
_Hope everything is going well

Carmen gives up on that text, as well, hating herself. It's so impersonal. So bland. Her eyes flick to the time on her phone - it's only three in the morning in San Diego. She doesn't want to wake Julia up; she should just wait for tonight. 

A car glides to a stop beside them, ending her deliberations. "Carmen Wolfe?" the driver calls.

"That's us," Carmen announces. She slides her phone into her back pocket and grins at Ivy and Zack. "Start faking those smiles, kids. We're off to a party."

They get into the car - Carmen in the front, Zack and Ivy scrunched into the small backseat - and politely small-talk with the chatty driver. The chatter starts to get a little too personal - _'So, Carmen, how long are you in London? I can show you some sights if-'_ But Ivy, always having Carmen’s back, leans forward and interjects, "Didya text Jules yet?"

"Not yet," Carmen admits. Ivy punches her arm; Carmen flinches. "Oww! I didn't want to wake her up!"

"You're bein' a moron," Ivy informs her.

"Yeah," Zack chimes, probably glad to not be the resident idiot at the moment. "Text your girlfriend."

That one shuts their driver up, and it also spurs Carmen into grabbing her phone and acting like a person.

Hey babe, sorry if this wakes you up. We landed a bit ago and are off to the festival  
You should call me after your session. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'd like to hear your voice  
That's pretty needy isn't it?  
_Anyway! If I don't answer, I'm probably thwarting evil, but I'll call you back asap  
_Je t'aime

Carmen sends the texts before she can second-guess her words. She exhales and puts the phone back. Ivy gives her a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder, but she doesn't press.

Today is Julia’s first therapy session, and she's doing it alone.

Carmen chews the inside of her cheek, feeling - not for the first time - like the worst girlfriend in the world.  
  


* * *

  
Lost Village is...hard to describe. It is certainly lost, though, because the trail leading to it involves three different modes of transportation. The last one being an actual horse-drawn carriage with blacked-out windows.

 _"This is literally the coolest thing ever,"_ Ivy had breathed as they sat in the pitch-black, bouncing carriage.

It is also a village, of sorts. Small smatterings of maintained - but designed to look overrun - houses squat among the towering, mossy trees and trampled grass.

After a very long, very confused debate as to _how_ the festival organisers managed to double-book a camping spot, Carmen and her crew are shown to their tent. 

And to their spot-mate.

"Hi," the twenty-something greets them with a smile that crinkles the side of her eyelids. "Weird that we got put into the same spot, huh? I saw them bringing your tent around a few hours ago. I'm Arabella, by the way."

"I'm Carmen," Carmen returns, hoping they can part with the woman and get on with their plan. They need to find the auction item - a working, solid-gold guitar, of all things - and ensure no one else gets close. "And this is Zack and Ivy."

"Nice to meet you." Arabella's smile is a little too knowing, a little too mischievous. It's endearing, but there's something about it that makes the hair on Carmen's neck stand on end. 

There's something about the small woman - she’s oddly familiar. The correlation doesn't quite fit into place, though, so Carmen files it away for later reflection. "So, what band are you here for?" Arabella is continuing from where she perches on a log set round a burnt-out campfire.

Carmen prepared for this, but it doesn't mean she likes it. She puts on her best smile, needlessly tossing her bangs out of her eyes. "Oh, _I'm_ here for the 'Gram-ability. Ivy and Zack are the musical ones. Which band are you guys salivating over?"

"Dark Manger," Ivy and Zack quip at the same time. 

"Instagram model?" Arabella asks, ignoring the siblings. She raises a brow and gives Carmen a critical once-over. "I _guess_ I can see it?"

Carmen tries not to be offended - she isn't a model and doesn't want to be one, but _damn._ Does this girl not _see_ her legs? "I'm just starting out."

"Good luck with that," Arabella smiles, but it's slightly pitying. Carmen, again, fights down some needlessly-defensive irritation.

"We should get some rest before the party starts, Carm," Ivy inserts herself into the quickly-deteriorating conversation. "And get those costumes sorted 'cause...I honestly have no idea how we're gonna fit into them, to be honest."

"Long air flights do cause some bloat," Arabella adds. "Don't worry, we're all going to be a little puffy."

Oh dear _God,_ Carmen can't handle this right now. She gives her signature simper, raising a brow. "Bloat? Oh, _these_ are muscles. Ivy over here is my personal trainer."

Ivy can't help puffing her chest a little at that; Carmen thinks she might see Ivy's arms flex, too. Such a peacock. That does bring a legitimate grin to Carmen's face. "Later, 'Bella. I'm sure we'll see you around."

"I'll be seeing you, at the very least," is Arabella's reply before she gets to her feet, her lithe frame sliding toward her tent.

"That got hostile real quick," Zack murmurs, looking uneasy. 

"Catty as hell," Ivy nods as they turn toward their four-person-sized tent. "I forget some girls are like that."

"I don't know," Carmen muses, dropping onto one of the inflatable beds. "It seemed weirdly personal."

"You could totally be an Instagram model," Zack assures her as if that's what's bothering her.

Carmen rolls her eyes and flops back onto the bed, closing her eyes. "I'm more focused on the cryptic _I'll be seeing you_ thing, but thanks, Z."

Carmen can't lie to herself, though - she's a little less annoyed in the wake of the compliment.  
  


* * *

  
Carmen holds the phone up, the front-facing camera identifying her features and lining up the shot. She doesn't take it, though; she proceeds to tilt her head side to side, ' _looking for her angle'_ , while actually scanning the crowd forming behind her. 

"See any familiar faces, Red?" Player asks. 

"No one yet," she replies. "Ivy? Zack?"

"Nothin' other than me trippin' over my own feet in these boots," Ivy grumbles. "Why the heels? We're in the dang forest!"

"Because we're surrounded by the vapid and drunk," Carmen replies, turning ninety degrees, still scanning. "And the heels make you peacock more." The multicoloured lights streaming from the closest building/stage illuminate and cast shadow in equal measures. It's making it hard for Carmen to get a full idea of who she's looking at. 

"Zack?" Player presses.

"No movement out here. The equipment's still sittin' around in the house, so if VILE's makin' a move, they haven't gotten around to it yet."

"And you're sure that's the right guitar?"

"'Course I am! It’s solid-freakin-gold, and I haven’t left this spot since they brought it in."

Carmen lowers her phone and moves back into the distant corners of the crowd, freeing up her sight-line. "I haven't seen Arabella."

"Are you still salty about that?" Player chuckles.

 _"No,_ I'm not _salty._ I'm still hung up on how weird she was."

"You're the one who pointed out we're around the vapid and drunk," Ivy reminds her. "She didn't seem too drunk, but I can _totally_ see the vapid part."

Someone bumps into Carmen from behind. The hit doesn't send her to the ground, but her flat-bottomed boots do lose a bit of purchase. 

"Sorry about that," a man says as he sways by with a full bottle of whiskey in hand.

Carmen narrows her eyes. He grabbed her side as he passed, knocking the peacock feathers on her hip to the ground. Carmen rolls her eyes but ignores the newly-thread-bare side of her bejewelled costume. Tonight’s goal isn't to maintain a pristine outfit.

"I just lost a handful of feathers," Carmen says anyway, putting her phone up and activating the camera. She turns in a semi-circle, catching sight of the man who bumped her. "And I think someone stole one of them," she adds when she notices the sparkling feather peaking from the man's pocket.

"I lost my tail a half hour ago," Zack admits.

"The feathers in my hair fell out immediately," Ivy agrees. "I guess between the three of us we make one decent peacock?"

Carmen doesn't listen to their costume lamenting, though, because she's too busy carefully walking backwards, keeping the man in her line of sight. He disappears around a clump of half-rotted, overturned logs, and she loses him.

"Damn," she mutters, putting her phone down and following his course, the pulsing music and lights making everything chaotic. Too chaotic. She can't find him. 

There are stragglers all through the meadow, but no crowds - not enough people to completely disappear into, anyway. "Guys, keep a look-out for a guy, mid-thirties. No costume - brown jacket and dark jeans."

"VILE?" Player asks.

"No idea, but he stole one of my feathers and somehow disappeared in the middle of nowhere, so...something's off."

"Ooo, I have someone in a brown jacket over here," Ivy announces. "Blond? Taller than anyone should be?"

"No, dark hair. Cinnamon skin. Hispanic, maybe?" As the words leave her mouth, she hesitates. "Short. He's short."

"That doesn’t clear much up, Carm.”  
  
“Like, _how_ short?"

"Like Arabella short," Carmen hisses, picking up her pace.

"Wait -- what?" Zack asks.

"Dr Bellum must have perfected that doppelganger bodysuit she was working on," Carmen bites out, hopping a log and sending some tail feathers fluttering to the ground when they snag on the wood. "Boys and girls, we've got a shapeshifter."  
  


* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch your back  
> [when you can't watch mine](https://open.spotify.com/track/2njUxZ4151DWIrfIK3loFj?si=YZ9yipHzT2yg1xjpCrfivg)


	5. The Lost Village Caper (2/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, in which we continue with the Lost Village caper.

* * *

**  
****VILE HQ**  
 **March 3rd**  
  
 _"Cam," Dr Saira Bellum greets, her smile flashing in the reflection from her monitors. "Always punctual - that's what I appreciate about you."_

_"Is that what you appreciate about me?" Cam Eleon tilts their head to the side and raises an amused brow. "You look happier than usual."_

_"I assume you remember the Skeleton Coast?"_

_Cam feels the words hit them, but they do their very best to keep it from flickering across their face. "It's hard to forget, given I fell off a cliff and narrowly escaped my head splitting open like a melon."_

_"Yes, well," Bellum hums, waving her hand dismissively. "Luckily, the ocean was there and you can swim."_

_Cam keeps their smirk from turning into a full-blown smile, but it's a hard thing to do. Dr Bellum has always understood them in a way the others haven't. "So, what did you need?"_

_"Ah!" Dr Bellum straightens up in her chair, flicking her screens away. When she gets to her feet, she comes around her desk, adjusting her goggles. "Let me see your gloves."_

_Cam holds their hands out, palms up, and watches Bellum as she shuffles through her chaotic desk. When she finds what she is looking for, Dr Bellum makes a small cry of joy. "Here they are! Tricky little things, always moving around when I'm not looking."_

_Cam's brows furrow when they notice the tools - long, slender things, things that glint sharply, needle-thin at the tips. Cam doesn’t speak, though, and holds very still when Dr Bellum strides toward them. The needle-like tools begin to knit together in her hands, becoming two small, strange and angular metal creatures._

_"A less trusting person might worry right about now," Cam says to dispel some of the anxiety clawing at their throat. The creature in Bellum's left palm scuttles a little; Cam manages not to flinch away from it when the scientist brings it close._

_"If the Skeleton Coast taught us one thing, it was that this chameleon has a difficult time holding onto steep rock." Dr Bellum gently places the clicking, metal creatures on Cam's palms. "We are going to fix that."_

_The creatures stab their little legs into each fingertip. Cam lets out a startled noise, but they feel nothing; the needle-like appendages dig into the gloves’ flexible webbing without a single prick to Cam’s skin._

_"What-"_

_Dr Bellum shakes her head, her grin as excited as it is wide. "Your gloves stick to smooth surfaces just fine, but the porous ones? The uneven? Less so."_

_The creatures are shuddering like bugs just before death. Cam leans a little closer, analysing them. "What are they doing?"_

_"Fixing our little problem."_

_"That's vague."_

_"It is, isn't it?" Bellum chuckles to herself. "Ah, there! They're done!" She plucks the motionless husks from Cam's gloves, returning them to her desk. "Go on - test them."_

_Cam is used to Bellum's odd games, her quirks, so they don't get frustrated by her lack of response. Bellum will give Cam all the details their heart desires just as soon as she gets her amusement._

_Cam rubs their hands together, the gloves shimmering a little as they shift, filter, and replicate the skin underneath, Their fingers smooth across the closest wall; with a soft flick of Cam's wrists, the newly-invisible gloves suction to the surface. They hoist themselves up, waiting._

_"Keep going," Dr Bellum calls. "To the ceiling."_

_Cam's boots quietly join the climb. Cam isn't sure what this demonstration is proving - the wall is as flat as always, and Cam's never had issues on smooth surfaces._

_The second that they make it onto the ceiling, however, Bellum giggles. It's the mildly-alarming giggle, the one that means she's about to test something out and isn't quite sure how it will go. "Dr-"_

_Dr Bellum flips a switch on the wall, calling, "Try to stay off of the ground for as long as you can, dear."_

_"W-what?!"_

_The ceiling shifts under their fingers. Even with the gloves, Cam can feel everything with stunning accuracy. They can feel the shuddering as the ceiling begins to lift, to part, seams opening up._

_Cam thought the other faculty members were kidding when they warned not to piss off Bellum or she might string them up and raise the roof - literally._

_"When I say 'three', let go!" Dr Bellum calls from the quickly-retreating ground._

_"What?!"_

_"On three!"_

_Cam swallows down everything that tries to come out of their mouth. The curses. The panic._

_"One!"_

_The ceiling keeps going. Dear God, the ground is so far away - at least six storeys - and Cam is really not prepared to die on a whim._

_"Two!"_

_But they trust Dr Saira Bellum. She's flighty - and she's terrifying at times - but she'd never hurt Cam. It's because of this that Cam exhales and prepares to let the gloves and boots release their grip._

_"Three!"_

_Cam likes the sensation of falling, but they like the sensation of gripping things a little more. So when Cam sees the usually-inactive scaffolding sliding their way, they don't hesitate._

_Their fingers slip into the metal holes of the platform, trying to hook, trying to keep themselves upright. But they don't have to catch their fingers, because the gloves adhere to the galvanised, pocked metal without a single issue._

_Cam lifts their legs, boots slipping, not nearly as adhesive as the gloves. The shoes struggle for purchase but can find nothing - much in the way they did on that Skeleton Coast cliff._

_"Holy hell!" Cam shouts, unable to keep the joy from their voice._

_"How about you go for a little exploration?" Bellum calls from the ground. Cam doesn't have to look down to know the woman is grinning madly. “When you tire of jumping around, see Countess Cleo. She has new outfits to program into your suit.”_

_Christmas, it seems, has come early for Cam. The trees that surround their home aren't potential pitfalls anymore. Their gloves switch from surface-to-surface - wood to rock to metal and back again._

Now to get these boots up to speed -- and those fashion upgrades.  
  


* * *

 **  
****Lost Village Music Festival**  
 **August 28th**

Carmen is out of breath by the time she breaks past the revellers and into another mess of tents. She tears between them, glancing into each one as she goes. She catches sight of things she had no intention of seeing, naturally, but Carmen manages not to get distracted.

"Anything?" Player asks over their comms.

"Nada," Ivy replies - she sounds out of breath. "Carm, ya sure-"

A woman slides out of one of the tents ahead of her. "Hey!" Carmen snaps; the short woman turns toward her, blue eyes widening in confused nervousness. The hair peeking out of the slouchy hat she's wearing is honey-coloured in the bouncing lights strewn through the trees. She's pale, alcohol-flushed, and not at all who Carmen is looking for.

"Sorry - wrong person!" Carmen says, pressing onward at a jog. She's reaching the end of the camping spots, coming closer to the denser, wilder woods beyond the festival grounds.

"I lost 'em," Carmen sighs, running a hand over her face. "Regroup. Zack, how's the guitar?"

"Still gold an' still inside the house. Guards are none the wiser to our antics."

"At least there's that?" Ivy tries.

Carmen glances around, letting her chest settle into a less overworked rhythm. "I'm heading back to the stage."

"Hey!" someone shouts from behind Carmen. She whirls, ignoring whatever Ivy is saying over the comm. A man in a bull mask - clearly under the influence of something - announces, "You're a peacock!"

Carmen forces a little smile. "And you're a bull. Fun."

The man is asking her something - to race him? For some reason? - but Carmen's eyes catch motion in the trees, fluttering the leaves like a controlled breeze is passing through.

Carmen narrows her eyes but keeps from looking directly toward the source. The shuffling stops, leaving no noises other than the bull-man calling for someone to referee their race.

A small clump of moss falls. Carmen's incisor comes down on the inside of her lower lip to keep the smile at bay. "Say," she begins, amicably punching the bull-man's arm. "We don't need a ref, right? We're both on the up-and-up. Let's just go."

And then she starts running. The bull-man is laughing hysterically - evidently finding this the most amusing thing in existence - as he struggles to match her pace. "Your tail is so pretty!" he pants out.

Carmen makes a face, but then she glances back enough to see that yes, her feathery outfit is fluttering out behind her, colours catching in the dim lights. She'll let that one go, then - it _is_ a very pretty tail.

Carmen maintains her pace, keeping the bull-man close. While she _pretends_ to race the inebriated merry-maker, she watches the trees through her peripheral. The canopy moves above her.

And then the mass above her breaks off when they near the festival’s main stage. They veer to the left, disappearing into the haze of fog machines, multi-coloured strobes, and the barely-withheld darkness.

"Zack," Carmen hisses through the comm, "they're coming toward you. They're in the trees."

 _"The trees?"_ Zack repeats. Carmen can almost visualise him looking up in confused horror. "Like Tarzan or somethin’?"

"Like something," Carmen agrees, coming to an abrupt stop. The bull-man nearly smacks into her but manages to swerve around her, tripping over himself, hitting the ground with a muffled groan. "Nice job, you won," Carmen congratulates, twisting and tugging the tail attachment out of her leggings. "Here, take this," she says, shoving the strings of feathers onto his chest. Tearing the feathers out of her hair, tossing those down, too, Carmen reaches for the bullhead.

"Hey!" he weakly argues when she removes the headpiece, _"I-I'm_ the min...m-minotaur! _I_ chase!"

"Let's play a different game," she grins, leaning down to faux-whisper, "I'm going to take this headpiece, and you're going to take that tail. We're going to run in opposite directions, and then we're going to try to find each other in thirty minutes. Cool?"

The man blinks at her; instead of pointing out that this game makes no sense, he grins. "Hell yeah."

Carmen lowers the massive headpiece onto her shoulders, wincing a bit. The inside of the thing smells like sweat and vodka. It limits her vision to two small tunnels, too, which is even worse.

Certainly not the best choice for a caper disguise, but now isn't the time to be choosy. She begins to move - slower this time, doing her best to limit the number of people she ploughs into - and wishes she could hear something over the pounding EDM and the thumping of her heart echoing inside this stupid mask.

"Make way for the minotaur!" someone shouts very close to Carmen. Somehow the call actually makes people part around her, voices raising in amusement and excitement.

"The minotaur!" someone else shouts in glee.

"All hail the minotaur!"

Carmen doesn't want this kind of attention, but it is impossible to get through the crowd now, to disappear into obscurity. Who would have thought the random guy she took a mask from was a local legend?

"Race me!" someone giggles close to Carmen's obstructed left ear.

Carmen twists away from the person, mask swivelling, eyes catching sight of a pretty, glassy-eyed woman. Hazel eyes, not the brown ones Carmen is looking for.

"Sorry, I've got someone else to race," she shouts, but no one seems to hear her.

"Race!" someone else yells.

"The minotaur's here!" another person calls.

Voices everywhere, dulled by - but echoing inside of - the headpiece. Muffled bass that she can barely understand. Someone grabs her arm, spinning her around to them, announcing, "Will you race _me?"_

Carmen's eyes lock onto dark browns in a caramel-coloured face. Hispanic with that toothy grin Arabella gave her, wearing the brown jacket of the man who bumped her.

"I liked the feathers better if I’m honest," they say, tilting their head to the side, coy and unconcerned.

"They were prettier," Carmen agrees, tugging her arms free of the shapeshifter, lashing out with an elbow to the nose. This VILE agent seems to have learned a lesson from Coach Brunt, though. They cover-up, blocking the hit with their forearms.

Carmen falls back, preparing, but the person doesn't come at her. They use the body of one of the partiers to push away, utilising the momentum to tear around the main stage's building. A single hop takes them off of their feet - their fingers splay across the wall and stick.

And then they're gone - up the wall, across the roof, and into the trees.  
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [today won't do you no good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRX9eJHAfhE)   
> 


	6. The Lost Village Caper (3/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, in which we finish the Lost Village caper.

* * *

  
Carmen tears off the bull headpiece and tosses it to the ground, breaking free of more seeking hands, more cries of _race me!_ Tapping her comm, Carmen mutters, "They're coming your way, Zack - and they can crawl up trees and buildings, so...keep your eyes up."

"What the _hell,"_ Zack groans.

"’Til we get there, this is on you, bro," Ivy replies.

"Yeah," Zack mumbles, "great. Perfect."

"Ivy, you still have your tail-feathers attached?"

"Hell yeah! It took me _hours_ to make these things, I ain't about to-"

"Lose it - we have to match." Ivy groans a protest, but Carmen knows she's complying. "Zack-"

"Bogey incomin'!" Zack cuts her off.

Carmen runs around the main-stage building but trips over something round and solid before she can gain much speed. The momentum sends her crashing face-first into the dirt, knees pinging in agony from the trampled ground. She rolls over, groaning and tugging a broken twig from a scraped knee, glaring at whatever tripped her up.

It's a leg.

Carmen stares at the trio of bodies in horror - they’re the guards, given their uniforms - before glancing around. No one. Carmen uses her moment of invisibility to check the guards' pulses. They're all breathing, merely unconscious, so Carmen leaves them there without a single hesitation.

She rounds the corner to find Zack swinging a branch at a slender figure in a form-hugging bodysuit. They duck under the first swing, slither aside from the next, and hop over a kick to their knee. They don't fight back, reflexively keeping themselves just out of harm's way while...

"Ivy!" Carmen calls over the comms - but there's no answer. Carmen hisses and throws herself toward the operative's back, glad that Zack is so good at being a nuisance.

But just as quickly as they evade Zack, the operative escapes Carmen, too. They dance aside and come back, a pair of swivelling goggles catching in the light-strewn canopy. Smirking at Carmen, they call, "You can’t sneak up on a chameleon.”

Zack is panting, falling back, holding his side like he's gotten a stitch. Swinging that branch around the way he was, a stitch would be the _least_ painful reason. "You good?" Carmen asks.

"Peachy," Zack grunts. "That one over there blew out our comms."

"I noticed," Carmen murmurs. And then, to the operative, "And who're you?"

"I wondered if you recognised me," they chuckle, slowly sidling away from Carmen and toward Zack. Toward the seemingly-weaker link. "I was a few years ahead of your class. Cam Eleon? Ring any bells?"

It does. _Vaguely._ But Carmen shrugs. "You must have a forgettable face."

Cam gives her a pitying grin. "Aww, good! You puzzled out my gimmick - I was worried it might be a little over your head."

"Why don't ya stop talkin’ and do somethin’?" Zack taunts even though he's edging his way toward the now-unguarded back door to the building. "Oh, betcha can't, huh? Your little outfits fizzled out right when our comms did."

"Odd you're still on the ground," Carmen nods, understanding. "Your EMP takes out your own equipment. Risky."

Cam doesn't look too concerned, but Carmen notices a small twitch at the corner of their mouth. They're weighing their options. "How long does the EMP work?" Carmen asks for the sheer hope that she can distract Cam enough for Zack to start their contingency plan.

Cam's goggles, though, seem to be working in spite of the EMP, because Cam notices Zack lunging into the building. Cam is faster than Carmen, but Carmen is stronger - she barrels into Cam just as they reach the doorway, sending the operative into the room and onto the floor, gasping for breath.

A direct hit to the solar plexus will do that.

Glass breaks to their right, and both Carmen and Cam whirl to see Zack tossing the guitar - Carmen winces, hoping beyond all hope that he didn't damage the thing - through the window, clambering out after it.

 _"No!"_ Cam shouts, thrusting a palm up, heel digging into Carmen's neck. Carmen goes to jelly, choking, huddling into a ball on the floor while re-learning how to breathe. Through tear-filled eyes, Carmen watches Cam tear out of the building and into the glowing forest.

"Zack?" Carmen tries to growl over the comms, coughing while staggering to her feet.

"Carm?!" Ivy gasps - she's running by the sound of things.

"I'm here, too, Red."

"Oh, thank God," Carmen wheezes.

"This VILE operative's got something that's cutting out any technology around them," Player informs them.

"Yep, EMP. Where are they?"

"Followin’ Zack,” Ivy replies. "I'm loopin' back and headin' your way with the real deal."

Carmen nods. "Zack's current trajectory?"

Player cuts in. "Based on how many electronics are going off-and-on-line? Heading west toward the rendezvous."

Carmen leans in the doorway for a moment to catch her breath. She has to cough more times than she likes, each one stimulating and agonising her throat in equal measures. By the time she can somewhat get through a sentence without gasping, she pushes off of the door frame. "Ivy-"

"Right here, boss," Ivy calls as she comes to a slowed trot, a guitar-case in hand. "And not empty-handed."

"Ivy, you're a God among men," Carmen says, meaning every word of it while re-tying her bun to keep her bangs out of her eyes.

Ivy winks and steps into the building, removing the gleaming guitar and replacing it in its display. She grabs a decoy case and hands it to Carmen. "It's all on you now."

Carmen nods and clears her throat, coughs, and then tries again. She takes the case and rolls her shoulders before breaking into a loping run. "Where to, Player?"

"Keep west," he replies. "It looks like Zack is leading them off toward the back tents. Everyone's phones are going on and off like Christmas lights."

Carmen's breath is labouring, but she's keeping a better pace than she expects, especially given the unwieldy, breezeblock-toting guitar case. She reaches the back tents in less than a minute, having a straight-shot to follow instead of Zack's meandering course.

"Where?"

Player's fingers click across the keys but then stop very abruptly. "I see Zack! He's to your left, into the trees. Coming your way - if you stay put-"

Carmen's fingers go cold. If Player can see Zack, then the EMP wore off. If the EMP wore off, Player can't track Cam. If Player can't track Cam...

Zack's flushed face is coming toward her - he's shouting at her and he doesn't have the other decoy case. Cam must have it. Cam must know -

Carmen doesn't have time to process it before a weight smashes into her back, wrestling her to the ground, tugging at the guitar case in her grip.

"Stop!" Zack shouts, voice booming. "Thief! _M-music_ thief!" To Carmen's absolute surprise, the shout actually draws attention from the tents around them.

Cam's eyes widen, mouth opening in an aghast, "Seriously?" when people begin to come out to intervene. _"Seriously?!"_ Cam shouts again, pissed and finally losing the grin. Their fingers grip onto the case so hard that Carmen thinks their gloves might be military-grade suction cups. Cam rips the case from Carmen's grip, tearing off into the dark and disappearing into the canopy.

"Did you see that?" someone asks, sounding amazed and horrified. A lot of mumbling. Someone implies there might be _substances_ altering their thought process, making them see people climbing trees like a squirrel.

"Are you okay?" people keep asking Carmen, along with versions of, "What an asshole, stealing someone's guitar. At a musical festival, no less!"

Zack helps Carmen to her feet; Carmen doesn't even have to force the reassured smile she gives all of her well-wishers.  
  


* * *

  
"Welp," Ivy begins, sitting on the log beside Carmen, passing her a beer, "the guitar was auctioned off without a hitch, and now a British techno band - for whatever reason - owns a golden guitar."

"And the World United Alliance has a _huge_ sum of money comin’ their way," Zack adds, finally done poking at their campfire.

"All in a day's work," Carmen nods, taking a sip from her bottle and wincing when she swallows. "Dear God, I was not prepared to get punched in the throat."

"I don't think anyone ever is," Player mumbles sleepily from his end of the line.

"Go to bed, Player," Ivy scolds.

"It's only ten," he argues weakly. He's been up for close to two days straight, so the words don't inspire any level of pity.

"Go to bed," Carmen insists, and then adds, "And great job on this, by the way. We'd have been screwed without you."

"No-duh," he chuckles, but he sounds pleased. "You guys, too. Nice way to come back from a hiatus, huh?"

"Not bad," Carmen admits. "'Night, Player."

"'Night, guys," he replies to Ivy and Zack's echoed farewell.

"Well," Carmen says, taking another sip from her bottle, "What's the plan? Do you guys want to hang around here for the rest of the festival, or…?"

Zack makes a face. "Not gonna lie, this place is weird."

"I didn't wanna say it first," Ivy agrees. "I mean, it's cool - it's fun. It's just..."

"That minotaur guy was the tipping point for me," Carmen nods. "And the constant strobing lights."

"Minotaur?" Ivy and Zack echo with varying levels of incredulity.

"Mm-hmm. There was this guy in a bull mask who everyone calls the minotaur. He goes around challenging people to races. I gave him my tail feathers in exchange for his mask."

The siblings blink at her, seemingly unsure how to process this.

Carmen, too, isn't sure how to process it now that she's thinking about it. "He's still out there with my tail. We were supposed to meet up and swap back, but I have no idea where I dropped that headpiece, so."

"He'll be fine," Ivy shrugs, deciding not to question further. "You when Julia sees your throat, on the other hand..."

Carmen winces, reaching up to tenderly prod the swollen, discoloured bruise. "Don't remind me."

"Don't you have therapy this week, too?"

"Well, yeah. But I have that one shirt with the weird bow-scarf thing that makes the back of my neck sweat."

"Aww, that one Julia picked out?" Ivy sobers a little when Zack elbows her. "I-I mean...maybe you should take better care of yourself during missions? Especially since, ya know....you have a girlfriend. And a life outside of us? And, like... _therapy sessions_ with someone who might notice a massive bruise on your neck?"

Carmen puffs out her cheeks with a deep exhale. "This is dumb, isn’t it? Me going to therapy."

She expects the siblings to offer her something - she doesn't expect what she gets, though. "I think it's about time."

Carmen thinks her eyes might forcefully leave her skull. "Excuse me?"

"W-what Ivy means is," Zack begins, eyes flickering between them, "is that...ya know. Everyone could use a lil' help now and then."

"Sure - mental health is just as important as physical health, and counselling is a great tool for people who need it."

"Hold on a sec," Ivy protests, holding up a hand that is dangerously close to the flames. "You _seriously_ think you _don't_ need therapy?"

Carmen blinks at her. "Why would I?"

"Carm," Zack hesitantly begins after Ivy gives him an imploring look, "I mean, I know you're tough and all, but... you're not exactly...the best person to give mental health advice?"

Carmen can't stop her mouth from dropping open. "Excuse me?"

"No, no, that's not -- oh, boy," Ivy mumbles, running a hand over her face. "I'm not -- _ugh._ We're just tryna say that you've had a lot of crap happen. You've been thrown off buildings, you've been tossed around train cars, ya grew up inna freakin' _crime family,"_ she adds, voice dropping a little. "Carm, you've had a messed up life, and all we wanna do is see ya healthy. This therapy thing? I don't get it, but I also don't get how you're keeping yourself together day-in and day-out."

"W-what?" Carmen half-laughs. It comes out harsh, a bray. "I don't -- what, _specifically,_ are you talking about? Because I'm handling things like I always have. I’m on top of everything. I’m juggling my life. I can still adjust at a moment's notice."

"Bein' alert ain't the issue," Ivy murmurs. "The fact that ya can't _turn it off_ is the issue."

Carmen buzzes with the same spike of rage that she did when Shadowsan implied that Julia needed therapy. At the time, Carmen took it as a personal affront. She took it to mean that Julia was weak and, in turn, Carmen was weak for not being able to save her.

That's how Carmen knows the siblings are right.

It doesn't sit well. It floats through her belly like acid, boiling in her veins, in her very being. Carmen doesn't like being weak. She doesn't like being the last one to know something, to click things into place.

"You've got trauma, Carm," Ivy finishes.

"Your trauma's got trauma," Zack adds. Ivy smacks him, muttering under her breath, _Not helping, bro!_

It _definitely_ doesn't help, but it gives Carmen something to think about. She gets to her feet, wiping the back of her leggings off. "I'm going to change and call Jules."

"We'll be here," Ivy grins, waving one of the bottles of beer in a goodbye.

Carmen ducks into the tent. She leaves the camping lantern off, changing into a too-large tee and grabbing her phone from the footlocker. She calls Julia without hesitating or planning what to say.

When she answers, it's with a surprising amount of cheer in her voice. _"Ma louve! Ca va?"_

 _"Tres bien,"_ Carmen replies, biting her lower lip and closing her eyes, grinning like an idiot. _"Et toi?"_

 _"Tres bien,"_ she echoes. "You sound strange. Did something happen?"

Carmen winces. "Yeah, actually - we finished the mission.”

“On the first night?”

“I know, weird, huh? We got to meet a new VILE operative, too - they're…" Carmen trails off, softening. She doesn't want to talk about this. "How was your first session?"

She doesn't answer for a moment. Carmen listens while Julia walks through the warehouse - and it can only be the warehouse. Carmen knows the sounds of the place, how the wood floors creak, how the noise bounces around.

"Video call?" Julia asks, and Carmen nods even though she can't see.

"One sec." Carmen pulls the neckline of her tee further up, covering the bruise, before sending the request to Julia's phone. When the woman's face fills the screen, Carmen's smile widens. "You're wearing my lipstain." Julia flushes, covering her mouth for a moment; Carmen tilts her head a little. "It looks good on you."

"I-I...thought it might give me some extra confidence today."

“Did it?"

Julia bites the inside of her cheek, eyes shimmering. She's cried recently. "It did. It's silly how our brains can take such simple things and make them so powerful."

Carmen nods a little, waiting. Julia seems to realise that she isn't getting out of the original question, so she murmurs, "Dr Singh is very nice. I think you will like her."

"Do you like her?"

"I think so," Julia says, voice muffling a bit as she settles into their bed, drawing the comforter up around her shoulders. "Is it...would it be alright if we wait to talk about this when you return? I would rather have some time to...process."

"Of course," Carmen says quickly. "Definitely. Doing this over the phone is…"

"Strange?"

"Very.” Carmen watches Julia settle into the pillows and wishes she was home right now - that she could comfort Julia. "I miss you.”

Julia's smile matches the one Carmen must be giving. "I _am_ surprised you have been able to function without me there," she teases, pretending as if she means it.

"Me, too," Carmen replies with a laugh, though she means it a little more than she'll ever let on.  
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you're my painkiller when my brain gets bitter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0p_B-9y8Tws)   
> 


	7. Present (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven, in which Team Red celebrate Julia.

* * *

  
It's ten in the morning when Carmen finally pulls herself out of bed. She's exhausted from the London trip - during her hiatus, she somehow forgot how tiring VILE is.

She's also not looking forward to her session with Dr Sarah Singh tomorrow. For a moment, she wonders what it must be like - finding yourself, an unsuspecting psychiatrist, sitting across from an international thief and her law-absconding girlfriend.

She adjusts the thick braid hanging down her back as she walks to the kitchen, yawning and stretching, rolling her neck to work the stiffness out.

She comes to a stop at the kitchen's entry, though, confused. Ivy is there, sitting at the bar. That isn't entirely unusual, of course, but the fact that she is turned around the wrong way, facing Carmen, is. She's also reading a magazine that is more adverts than stories. She _also_ has all three vehicle's car keys laid out like tiny soldiers on the bar beside her.

"What's going on?" Carmen asks, unsure how she should feel about this seeming-ambush.

"Hopefully nothin'," Ivy shrugs, blase, not looking up from the ad she's pretending to care about. "Hopefully what I'm about to remind you of isn't a surprise."

Carmen narrows her eyes. "Did Chase do something? Was I supposed to bail him out of jail?"

"Worse."

"...Shadowsan?"

Ivy rolls her eyes and tosses the magazine onto the bar. "No one's in jail, ya weirdo! It's Julia's birthday!"

Carmen starts to roll her eyes, and then she stops. She thinks about it. She realises that, yes, it is indeed September first. She also realises that she did not prepare for this day at all. And then she realises what that means.

It's Julia's first birthday in America, first birthday away from her mother, first birthday on the run -- and her first birthday with Carmen.

"Shit," Carmen hisses, turning on her heel and hurrying back to her bedroom.

Ivy follows Carmen into the darkened, curtain-swathed room. "She's out for the mornin'. Said somethin' about the farmer's market and pickin' up a cake."

"Damnit," Carmen moans, jogging to her dresser and pulling clothes at random. A thin camisole. A ripped-but-stylishly-so crop top. A pair of jeans. She struggles into them while Ivy fiddles with random trinkets along the bedroom wall. "When did she leave?"

"'Bout...twenty minutes ago? Said she'd be a couple'a hours."

A couple of hours. That's not enough time. Dear God, this is terrible. "Where's everyone else?"

"Z's still sleepin', probably. Shadowsan's in his dojo, and Devineaux's been playin' jazz all mornin', so you know where he's at."

Carmen wraps her braid into a mostly-presentable bun, pins it into place, and then slips socks over her feet. "Okay. Okay, this is doable. I can do this," she continues, adding another choker to her neck to fully cover the bruise.

"You mean _we_ , right? Or do ya _really_ wanna embark on this voyage alone?"

"Oh, thank God - _please_ help me."

Ivy smirks as if she's been waiting for this moment her entire life. "Right. I'll grab Zack, and we'll take care of the food and decorations. You go get that perfect gift that screams 'I'm the best girlfriend you'll ever find'."

Carmen winces; that makes things worse. _The best girlfriend_ would probably have remembered Julia's birthday. "Thanks, Ivy. You're a life-saver."

"Damn right, I am," she winks. She turns on her heel, sauntering out the door and bellowing, "Zack! Mission: Last Minute Birthday Party is underway!"

Carmen doesn't have time to listen to the grumpy exchange that is about to occur. She bounds to the dojo, not even bothering to knock on the door before skidding inside, socks slipping on the newly-waxed floor. "Shadowsan, I need help."

Shadowsan doesn't even twitch. His meditative pose doesn't waver, and he doesn't crack open an eye to regard her. "You forgot Julia's birthday."

Carmen gapes at him even though he can't see it. "Did _everyone_ remember her birthday except me?"

"No. I merely heard Ivy rattling windows far and wide just moments ago."

Carmen impatiently shifts her weight from one leg to the other. "Yes, I am terrible. I forgot, and now I need to find the best birthday present anyone has ever given their significant other."

Shadowsan does crack open an eye at that. He does not look sympathetic. "You will fail all impossible tasks, Carmen."

Carmen is fairly sure that her current level of impatience knows no match. "Will you help me, or not? Because I have maybe an hour and a half before she gets back, and-"

Shadowsan stands with such ease and suddenness that Carmen takes a step back, surprised. "I will accompany you," he finally says, though he doesn't sound entirely enthused about it. She supposes he never does, though.

"Thank you," Carmen breathes, more relieved than she expected. She doesn't wait for him to follow her - she returns to the kitchen, grabbing the keys for the sedan.

Before she can make it out of the main room, Devineaux descends the stairs, looking curious but disgruntled. "What is this about a birthday?"

"It's Julia's birthday, and none of us are prepared," Carmen rushes through, dancing around his lanky form, not slowing down.

Devineaux looks even more confused, following after her. "And?"

Carmen whirls on him, again worried that he might be an alien hiding in a human body. "W-what do you mean -- nevermind, no time. We've got less than two hours to find the perfect gift."

"That is an impossible task," Devineaux tells her, though he shoves his feet into his absurdly-long shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"Coming with you," he says as if it's obvious. "If you are looking for the nearly-perfect gift, Ms Sandiego, you will need my help."

Carmen is fairly sure that isn't accurate, but she's in too much of a rush to argue. "Shadowsan!" she starts to shout, only to turn and find him coming toward them. "C'mon, we've got less than-"

"We are quite aware of the time constraints," Shadowsan interrupts her, guiding her into the garage with a firm hand on her back. "We waste precious moments each time you remind us."

He isn't wrong, so Carmen doesn't argue it. She slides behind the wheel and starts the car, barely waiting for Devineaux to buckle his belt before reversing out of the garage.  
  


* * *

  
The outdoor shopping mall is loud and bustling even though it's eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. Carmen's first stop is to a department store, overwhelmed with the entire situation.It takes her all of five minutes wandering through the jewellery section before she turns to a very bored-looking Devineaux. "Help."

Devineaux lets out a sigh that is too relieved for Carmen's tastes. " _Enfin_! Come - this place smells of depression."

It smells like perfume, but Carmen gets the sentiment. She is more than happy to let the long-limbed man take charge, trotting out of the store behind him. The heat hits her, warming her chilled arms.

It doesn't last long, though, because Devineaux knows precisely where he's going. Where he goes, though, doesn't seem like a shop intended for a woman like Julia. "Chase, this doesn't really-"

But he is still walking through the cold, dim shop, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman behind the counter (whose only crime was asking, "Good morning; are you looking for something in particular?").

That is answered for him when Devineaux strides directly to an enclosed display case, bending down to peer at the second-to-bottom shelf. "Isn't it glorious?" he murmurs when Carmen joins him, crouching down to see.

Carmen quirks a brow at him even though he can't see it. "You think Julia would like these?"

"And why not?" he asks, turning to give her a defensive scowl.

Carmen bites her lower lip to keep from laughing, humouring him by giving it a second glance. It's a modern decanter set, the glass smooth and free of the usual crystal filigree. She doesn't see the appeal for Julia. "Are you sure you're not trying to drop hints about what I should get _you_ for _your_ birthday?"

Devineaux narrows his eyes at her but, to her surprise, he doesn't cause a fuss. He moves aside, motioning for her to take his place. "Look a bit closer."

They don't have time for this. Carmen leans in anyway, eyes taking in the details. The precise etchings around the base of the decanter - a mountain range. The four tumblers - which she at first assumed were nothing more than thick-bottom glasses - have delicately crafted mountains encapsulated inside.

"It's gorgeous," Carmen murmurs, leaning a bit closer.

"Please don't touch the glass!" the man from the counter calls.

Carmen doesn't respond - she's too busy gaping at the price listed at the corner of the display. "Does that -- does that say _three-hundred_ dollars?"

"Do you know how difficult it is to blow glass, Ms Sandiego?" Devineaux chides. "Especially with a moulded bottom, as this has. And the details inside the mountain - the etching! Less than that price would be sacrilege."

It's gorgeous, but, "It doesn't feel...right."

Devineaux heavily sighs, running a frustrated hand over his face. "How much better could you find, Ms Sandiego? This is a perfect replication="

"These are not perfect replications!" the man from the counter calls.

"-of the French Alps! There is nothing better for a homesick soul than bourbon and images of home."

The man from the counter rounds it, coming up to them. "I am sorry to interrupt, but...that is not the French Alps. That's Mount Shasta."

Carmen manages not to smile when Devineaux's face falls into moody regret. "Thank you for letting us know," Carmen says, standing. "Well, Chase, good effort."

"Fine," Devineaux grumbles. " _I_ shall buy it." Carmen's brows raise; Chase puffs his chest a little, adjusting his somehow-lopsided tie. "It would not be fitting to go back empty-handed. I would look foolish and cheap."

"You certainly won't look cheap," Carmen acknowledges, moving toward the door while Devineaux goes to the register and the clerk finds the boxed items in the back. "Have you seen Shadowsan?"

"He is probably slithering somewhere," Devineaux replies absently, opening his billfold.

Carmen can't believe how easily she can lose a fully-grown man. "We don't have much time-"

"Go, go," he shoos her away, not even bothering to glance up.

Dismissive as usual. It makes Carmen smile even though terror prickles her chest when she glances at her watch. Dear God, they only have an hour.

Carmen jogs through the air-market, ducking around shoppers, glancing through shop windows as she blows by. She comes to a sudden halt outside of one window, though, when she sees the display of coats.

_Coats._

Carmen grins, ducking into the shop and bee-lining for the slim-cut, royal-blue peacoat in the display.  
  


* * *

  
Carmen finds Shadowsan without having to call him - he's sitting in a vibrating chair. An over-eager salesman is trying to tell him about the massager's features, hovering like a very large gnat.

"Having fun?" Carmen asks as she approaches.

"Miss! Would you like to spend a few minutes acquainting yourself with our new-"

"I get violently ill anytime I'm in a massage chair," she lies with a relaxed smile. "You do _not_ want me getting in one of these."

The attendant looks a little green, himself. He takes a few steps back, which Carmen can only assume Shadowsan is pleased by.

"Have you been here the entire time?" Carmen continues, setting her bag at her feet, noticing one by his. "Did you buy something?"

"I thought it only right that, given your...relationship with her, I express my gratitude."

Carmen is beginning to realise that she will never stop being surprised by him. She doesn't know what to say to that, and Shadowsan's mouth is puckering at the corners - the way it does when she's made him express emotion. Whenever he is uncomfortable.

Carmen could tease him - _wants_ to tease him. She wants to alleviate the sudden tension - the felt-but-unsaid thing that's clung to their relationship for the past year.

Shadowsan is Shadowsan - not her guardian, not her caretaker, not her…

father.

"You're getting sentimental in your old age," she settles on - but she leans over to place a quick peck to his cheek. "Thanks." And then she grabs her bag, turns on her heel, and get the hell out.

There's a small knick-knacks shop that draws her attention when she's almost at their chosen rendezvous - a smoothie stand that bravely boasts ' _every flavour you can imagine_ '. She ducks inside only to find Devineaux already there and holding a very, _very_ small -

"What...is that?"

Devineaux frown at her. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like a croissant."

"So your eyes are still working."

Carmen follows after him while he rounds through the mismatched aisles. "It's the size of my thumbnail, Chase."

"It is small. Small things are cute, Ms Sandiego."

Carmen scoffs, more perplexed than anything else. Devineaux comes to a stop, analysing a display of pewter paperweights in various animal shapes, mumbling to himself in a French-English hybrid.

Carmen slips around him and down another aisle. She doesn't find anything of immediate interest - although she does spy the gaggle of painted figurines Devineaux got his croissant from. Turning the corner, she nearly runs directly into Shadowsan.

"When did you sneak in?" she asks, easing by.

He's inspecting a series of silk scarves, eyes never leaving the designs and colours. "There is no need to sneak - the people here are too preoccupied to warrant the effort."

Carmen snorts and keeps going, leaving the odd assortment of clothing. Her fingers trail across the spines of ancient books from God-knows-when. Tacky wall-clocks from the seventies. A lion statuette with horrifyingly wide, red eyes.

And there, at the very back, is a copper globe. Carmen bee-lines for it, gently turning the small sphere, searching every centimetre of it. She then taps her earpiece. "Player, you busy?"

"Red? Oh, ah -- no, I have some time. What's up?"

"If I'm interrupting-"

"No, no, I just wasn't expecting -- it's Jules' birthday, isn't it?"

Carmen closes her eyes. Of course Player remembered; Player remembers everything. "Yeah, that's actually why I'm calling." She's already taking a picture of the globe, sending it along. "Does this look familiar at all?"

Player is quiet for a moment and then hums his surprise. "Maybe, Give me a sec." Player clicks away at his computer and then lets out a low whistle. "Wow, nice find. It's not the real deal, of course, but it's a pretty good replica."

" _Perfect_ ," Carmen breathes in relief. "It's our joint gift to her, how about that?"

"Cool. Anything else?"

Carmen can't help a small smile sliding across her face as she retraces her steps. Shadowsan isn't in the aisle anymore, but Carmen didn't expect him to be. "Are you sure I didn't interrupt something?"

"N-no?"

"You sound weird."

"I'm tired."

"Mmhmm," Carmen drawls. She's heard him _tired_ for years now - this isn't _tired_. "Well, get back to whatever not-at-all-suspicious thing you're doing."

"Hah. Hah. Tell Julia happy birthday for me."

"Will do. Later, P."

"Later, Red."

Carmen makes her way to the register - the woman there looks befuddled, staring out the window to where Devineaux and Shadowsan are waiting in the courtyard, holding their multi-coloured shopping bags and looking entirely out of their element. "You and your friends are quite an eclectic bunch."

"You have no idea," Carmen grins, setting her things on the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i get by with a little help from my friends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHjKxXMB4dE)   
> 
> 
> * * *


	8. Present (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eight, in which Carmen begins therapy.

* * *

  
Carmen stares at the coffee table, frowning at the collection of nonsense. A coat. A decanter set that features 'the French Alps'. A mysterious box that Shadowsan refuses to let them open. A scarf the same colour as Julia's favourite lipstick. A stupidly-small porcelain croissant.

This was a terrible idea.

The front door opens, and Carmen's shoulders tense. She turns in time to see Zack and Ivy descend on an unsuspecting Julia, crying, "Happy birthday!"

"Oh! N-no -- you'll make me drop the cake!" Julia moans in dismay, struggling to keep hold of the large, unwieldy box. Zack takes it from her and Ivy wheels her around, making a grand, sweeping gesture toward the living room. "Welcome to your birthday party!"

"Party?" Julia repeats, even more baffled. "But I said _no_ to any sort of pa-"

"No time to talk!" Ivy interrupts, dragging her over and sitting her on the couch. "Open this one," she insists, shoving the box across the coffee table and making Shadowsan's scowl tighten a little more. " _What_? You won't let us see what's in it 'less she lets us!"

Julia doesn't look particularly excited about the entire ordeal - embarrassed, even - so Carmen sits on the couch beside her, grabbing the only bag on the table. "How about we start with something a little less mysterious?"

"This is less mysterious?" Julia awkwardly chuckles, taking the bag and peeking inside. Her expression softens, though, as she removes the thick winter coat. "I thought you'd forgotten."

"Forgotten? Never. Slipped my mind for quite a few months? That's more accurate."

Julia lets out a soft chuckle, taking a few moments to smooth her finger over the woollen fabric. "It's gorgeous," she says, leaning over to press a kiss to Carmen's cheek.

Before the show of affection can last, Devineaux clears his throat. "And now," he says before handing the dainty croissant to her.

To Carmen's utter surprise, Julia perks up, holding the miniature between her thumb and forefinger. " _Comme c'est mignon_!" she laughs, squinting to take in the details. "Are those...?"

"Jalapenos, _oui_."

Julia's elation is staggering. "Like the ones at that little shop around the corner from ACME."

"The same."

Julia bites the inside of her cheek. Her eyes have gone a little wet. ' _There is nothing better for a homesick soul than bourbon and images of home_ ', Devineaux had said. He may have been onto something.

"Next!" Zack proclaims, leaning over the back of the couch to watch.

Shadowsan's scarf goes around Julia's neck almost immediately - it matches the flush on her cheeks. Devineaux's decanter bottle and tumblers bring a squeal of excitement to Zack and a horrified gasp to Julia. "This is too much!" she protests. "There is no world in which this costs less than-"

 _"C'est absurde_ ," Devineaux waves it away. "It is my gift to give, and I give it to you."

The last item - the wooden box - sits in front of Julia. She eyes it, and then eyes Shadowsan as if she expects him to say something. He does not - he only inclines his head to her, waiting.

Julia takes it, slowly unhooking the latch and opening it. Carmen doesn't have time to catch sight of what's inside before Julia snaps it closed, shaking her head. "I could never."

"It is in your hands now," is his response. Julia looks as if she might argue, but her mouth closes around the words. She nods, holding the box to her chest. "Thank you. Thank you to all of you. This is...unexpected. _Good_. But very, _very_ unexpected."

"I mighta pushed 'em out the door this mornin'," Ivy admits. "I know you said ya didn't wanna make a deal about it, but I figured...it's your first birthday on the team! We couldn't just settle for cake an' movies."

"Speakin' of cake," Zack says, already moving toward the kitchen, "we've got a big one. And spring rolls, egg rolls, sandwich rolls-"

But Carmen presses a kiss to Julia's cheek, murmuring, "I'll help you move stuff into the bedroom if you tell me what's in the box."

"You'll find out eventually," she replies cryptically, getting to her feet and collecting her gifts. "Or perhaps you won't."

"You're trying to torment me, aren't you?"

"Perhaps."

"Is the box empty?"

"Will my saying so sate your curiosity?"

 _No._ "Yes."

"Then it's empty," she shrugs as she moves toward their bedroom.

"But is it?" Carmen presses, following after her.

"Perhaps," Julia repeats, enjoying the game too much. She begins to set her gifts onto the dresser, and then catches sight of the bed through the vanity mirror. "There is a globe on the bed."

"Mmhmm. Player helped me pick it out."

"Did he now?" Julia murmurs, going to the bed and picking up the globe. She turns it over in her hands, brows furrowing as she takes in the details. "It's beautiful," she breathes.

Carmen joins her, gently running a finger across the curve, turning it. She taps the southeast coast of Asia, waiting. Julia leans in a little closer, mouth moving around the Latin written there.

_HC SVNT DRACONES_

Here be dragons.

Julia's eyes widen. "The Hunt-Lenox globe. Where did you find this? It looks..." she studies the irregular lines, the oddly-shaped continents, the doodles of sea creatures and ships. "I'd have to study it further, but this is an _amazing_ likeness. Where did you find this?"

"In the same shop Chase found your weird croissant."

Julia frowns, momentarily distracted. "I love my tiny croissant."

Carmen bites her lower lip to contain her laugh. "The real crime isn't their weird croissant miniatures - it's their prices."

Julia pales. "Carmen Sandiego, did you spend a fortune on me?"

"Ten dollars."

Julia's brows raise. " _Comment_?"

"That globe - that near-perfect replica of the most famous globe to ever exist - was ten dollars."

Julia is much happier with this piece of information. "Well, in that case." She spins the globe, waits a moment, and then presses her fingertip to the surface. It lands on an area that should be Poland; instead, it's a series of unintelligible lines beside a thick-handed _EVROPA_.

"Do you like it?" Carmen asks, already knowing the answer as she loops her arms around Julia's waist, tugging her into an awkward, globe-crowded hug.

"I love it."

"Enough to tell me what's in Shadowsan's box?"

Julia pulls away only enough to knock Carmen's arm with her shoulder. "You are a scoundrel."

"Always."  
  


* * *

  
"How do you take your coffee, Carmen?"

Carmen sits up a little straighter, brushing her hands down her thighs, smoothing her slacks out. She's so uncomfortable that it's difficult to remember her smile. Her neck is sweating because of the bow-scarf thing attached to her blouse. She's tempted to undo it - just to get some air, just to feel like she isn't suffocating - but she's wearing this getup for a reason. If Dr Singh saw the bruise, she'd probably have a lot of hard-to-answer questions.

"Creamer, please."

"Is French vanilla alright?"

"Perfect," Carmen lies. She hates French vanilla creamer.

"One dash or two?"

She never stops asking questions. "Surprise me."

Finally, _finally,_ the psychiatrist is sitting down across from Carmen. She sets their mugs on the coffee table between them, angling them so that the handles are in the perfect position for easy grabbing.

Dr Singh is a regal-looking woman with a long neck and long face, long hair and long fingers. Everything about her looks exotic and put-together. "How was your trip to London?" she asks, her smile perfectly in place, perfectly collected.

Carmen hates it. She hates all of this. Dear God, why is she here?

 _For Julia_. She's here for Julia - she just needs to keep reminding herself of that. Julia needs this and, according to everyone else in Carmen's life, Carmen needs it, too.

"It was fine," she replies with a smile. Dr Singh returns the expression, but she doesn't say anything. She waits as if expecting more, so Carmen clears her throat and reaches for her coffee. It's too hot, but she pantomimes a sip to calm her nerves. "The artefact was a fake, so that was unfortunate."

"Interesting that the… where did you say it was?"

"The National Maritime Museum."

"Yes, thank you. Interesting that the National Maritime Museum would call in an expert from California. I thought they might have someone a little closer to home."

Carmen, prepared for this, doesn't let her smile flicker. "I'm sure there are, but the curator and I are on close terms. I saved him from a mistaken purchase of a counterfeit doubloon. He's a bit sensitive about it, so he calls me in when he can't verify something."

"That's pretty validating - having such an accomplished career at twenty-three."

If only she knew. If only she knew that _Carmen Wolfe_ is twenty-three, yes, but _Carmen Sandiego_ is only twenty. "It is." If only she knew how accomplished Carmen actually is. "A little exhausting, too."

"It sounds like a lot of weight to carry around," Dr Singh continues, taking up her mug and sipping. Her dark eyes never leave Carmen, though, hawk-like. It makes Carmen's skin crawl. The woman clarifies, "If someone can call you from over five-thousand miles away, and you go on a moment's notice...that sounds validating, yes. But it also seems like a hefty cross to bear."

Carmen manages not to tighten her fingers around the warmth of her coffee. She manages not to narrow her eyes even though she wants to glare more than she wants anything else. "I feel like you're insinuating something."

"Not at all. I'm merely asking questions that might better help me understand where you are."

"Where I am?"

"Emotionally."

Carmen hates this so much. She wants to get up and walk out. Instead, she crosses her legs and leans back into the couch, settling in, making a show of getting comfortable. Relaxing. She rests her mug on her knee and tilts her head. "I'm tired and a little cranky."

"That's not quite what I mean."

"I'm pretty sure cranky is an emotion." _But I'm not the shrink, so what do I know?_ she keeps from biting out.

Dr Singh smiles a little. It's a gentle uptick to the corners of her mulberry-coloured lips. "You are right, of course. When I mean _emotion_ , I more-so mean your core state-of-being. The thing that results in everything else, all of those surface-feelings."

Carmen doesn't know what to say to that, so she sips her coffee. Still too hot - she's pretty sure she burned her tongue. The pain focuses her a little - enough that she realises she's taken her offensive position a little too quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise - first meetings are hard. Especially in these conditions," she adds, glancing around the office. It's less like an office and more like a living room, but Carmen understands her meaning. This is Dr Sara Singh's domain, not Carmen Wolfe's. It's an uneven playing field, and Singh is aware of it.

Carmen relaxes her shoulders. She gives the barest of nods. "Did Julia-"

"If I might interject? This session is about you - I can't discuss anything involving Julia's sessions. When you and I see one another, it's just us. When Julia and I see each other, it's just her and me."

"But you'll know both sides."

"I will."

"How is that fair? How can you be impartial?"

Dr Singh blinks at her, looking surprised, and then smiles. "I would say it will help quite a bit during your couples sessions, wouldn't you?" Carmen lets out a breath; Dr Singh continues, "Tell me about your day."

"Not about my childhood?"

"Do you want to talk about your childhood?"

"No, I just..." she doesn't know what to say. "You know...the trope? Therapists focusing on childhood missteps, crappy parents, school...?"

"It's a silly trope, isn't it?" Dr Singh grins. "A lot of our habits and traits stem from our childhood, yes. But - in my experience - focusing on _just_ childhood implies that we haven't grown since then. I want to talk about your day, and then maybe things from your past will come up. Maybe they won't - and that's okay, too." She leans forward again, setting her cup down and gesturing around them. "In here, it's your story, Carmen - you create the rules. All that I ask is that you be _honest_ and be _present_."

Carmen watches the woman for a moment, and then she gulps coffee. It sears her tongue. It focuses her. "Alright, then."  
  


* * *

  
When Carmen comes through the garage - kicking off her shoes at the door, untying the dumb bow-scarf thing - the first thing she hears is Julia's voice.

Carmen glides into the living room, zeroing in on the woman. She's on the couch in a pair of yoga pants and a sweater from Carmen's closet, legs folded under her. Player is on the other end of the laptop, going over flight reports.

"-haven't caught sight of those new ACME agents yet, but-" he's telling her.

Julia looks up from the computer screen, surprised when she notices Carmen. "Goodness, has it already been an hour?"

"Player, she'll call you back," Carmen says, taking the laptop from Julia and closing it, setting it aside.

"Carmen," Julia groans, looking exasperated and defeated in equal measures. "We were in the m-"

But Carmen cuts her off by pulling her up and into a hug. She dips down to bury her face against the crook of Julia's neck, letting out slow breaths to keep herself centred.

" _Ma louve_ …?"

"I love you."

Julia's tension leaks away. Her hands smooth across Carmen's back, settling on her shoulder blades, drawing her closer. "Dr Singh is good, isn't she?"

Carmen snorts, kissing Julia's neck. "She isn't bad for a shrink."  
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i tie my life to your balloon and let it go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WZh49lA9ns)   
> 


	9. Missed Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Nine, in which Julia makes a new 'friend' and Carmen meets an old one.

* * *

  
Carmen doesn’t usually sleep in -especially not on Saturday mornings when her ritual is so air-tight and habitual- so Julia is surprised when she wakes up with Carmen beside her. She rolls over, pressing her face into the back of Carmen’s bared neck, curling against her. Carmen mumbles something, sleepy and sweet, and Julia smiles, letting herself doze a little longer.

But her stomach eventually insists that she get up and find something for breakfast. She reluctantly pulls herself from the sheets tangled against her legs. Putting on glasses, then an oversized tee, she pads out into the sun-swathed warehouse.

There is always an abundance of food in the house, but it’s all things that need preparation. Preparation isn’t something Julia is good at, and it certainly isn’t something she plans on learning this morning.

There are grapes, though, so she breaks a small sprig from the bunch, popping the purple globes into her mouth as she walks back to the bedroom, mentally running through the local eateries. There’s the bakery a few blocks down...

Or the doughnut shop half a mile to the north. It’s old and dingy, a favourite haunt for the local police department, but their doughnuts are to die for. As much as Julia doesn’t want to put herself around law enforcement -for many reasons- it might be worth it for two dozen assorted treats and her housemates’ adoration.

So Julia takes a quick shower, gets dressed, and places a quick kiss to Carmen’s cheek. The woman mumbles something incoherent -Julia thinks she said _but when are the biscuits?_ \- and Julia furrows her brow. Carmen rarely sleeps so deeply. Julia isn’t sure if this should hearten her...or worry her.

Stopping to update the white-board on the fridge-  
 _Julia’s Status:_ _  
__OUT, 8.23 am_ _  
__getting doughnuts for breakfast_ _  
_-Julia steps into a pair of ballet flats and leaves the hideout.

The warm air is more humid than she expected, and her shower-damp hair angrily frizzes because of it. She tries to ignore the fact that her usually-sleek tresses are more flyaways than anything else right now.

Stomach growling, Julia picks up her pace, pulling her phone from her pocket to check the time. It’s only been a few minutes, and her brow is already beading with sweat.

Another muggy day.

She slams into something, stumbles back, and almost falls into the street. The solid mass she smacked into isn’t a slender pole, as she expected, but a person. They reach out, grabbing Julia’s forearm to steady her.

“Alright there?” the person asks, keeping hold of her just in case.

Julia blinks at the woman in front of her, momentarily too stunned to speak. “I-I, um. Y-yes. Yes! Sorry! I, ehm…”

The woman releases Julia without prompting. “Please tell me you don’t stare at your phone while you’re in the crosswalk, at least.”

Julia coughs out a laugh, glancing down at the concrete beneath her feet. “I rarely look at my phone while I walk,” she defends herself with an apologetic smile - one which makes the woman in front of her smirk a little.

“Well I guess it was just my good luck to be here to stop you from wandering into traffic,” the woman seems to be contemplating something, and then she settles on adding, “I’m Miu.”

“Julia.”

Julia offers her hand, but Miu takes a little step away. “So formal! I didn’t expect that from someone living out here,” she smiles. There’s something odd about her smile. And her eyes. Her eyes are too intense, like a hawk catching prey in its sights.

The woman in front of Julia is British, based on her accent, and tall. _So_ tall - she makes Julia feel like a child in comparison. But the lithe figure stoops her shoulders a bit, seemingly on instinct, to appear less-so.

“Are you visiting, too, or do you actually live here?” Miu is asking. Julia has to blink her thoughts away to catch up with the woman’s words.

“O-oh, I live here. A-and you are just visiting?”

“Just for a bit. Hopefully not for long - no offence,” Miu adds with a wink. And then she leans back on her heels, glancing across the sidewalk. “Can I help you get somewhere? I’d hate to think I walk away, and then you get hit by a car in my absence.”

“I am quite adept at walking, I can assure you,” Julia replies, but she keeps her tone light. Even though the woman is a little... _much_... Julia doesn’t sense any maliciousness from her. Boredom, maybe. That might be it.

Except for those eyes. Those eyes are continually watching, focused.

“No, but thank you,” Julia smiles. “I’m just picking up breakfast for my girlfriend.”

The woman doesn’t look surprised by this, but her smile widens a fraction. “Sure thing. Well, Julia…maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”

“Perhaps,” Julia replies, her skin going a little colder at that. There’s no threat to the words, but there’s too much certainty for it to be comfortable.

Julia forces a smile, trying to hide her unease. Miu steps away so Julia can continue past her, jaywalking across an empty side-street and hurrying on her path.

She waits until she’s outside of the doughnut shop before she calls Player.

“What’s up, J?” Player answers. He sounds like he’s eating something.

“Are you able to scan the ACME database for an agent description?”

Player stops chewing. “What happened?”

“I am sure I am being paranoid,” Julia prefaces, glancing over her shoulder and toward the place were she and Miu collided. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

* * *

  
Carmen is reaching for the sedan’s keys when Julia returns to headquarters with two bakery boxes.

“Christ, Julia!” Carmen groans, returning the keys to their hook. “Where have you been?!”

“I was out getting breakfast,” she replies, but her voice is a bit guarded. “Where are the others?”

“Zack and Ivy went out for breakfast since you didn’t come back for over an hour,” Carmen replies, her tone a little annoyed but mostly relieved. “Shadowsan went for a run. Devineaux is upstairs.” She pauses, seeming to notice something in Julia’s gaze. “Did something happen?”

Julia sets the boxes of doughnuts on the countertop, changed her status on the whiteboard to _IN_ , and then turns back to Carmen. “I ran into a woman near the doughnut shop. She was...strange. So I called Player to make sure she isn’t an ACME agent. Her description doesn’t match anyone on their payroll, nor the new agents. Just to be safe, Player gave me a footpath to loop my way back.”

Carmen, for some reason, is grinning. “She was acting strangely _how_?”

Julia rolls her eyes. “She was not flirting with me.”

“Are you _sure_?” Carmen presses, much too amused for the situation. “Because a lot of people flirt with you while I’m right there - can’t even imagine how often it happens when you’re alone.”

“She was not flirting.”

“Was she cute?”

“Carmen!”

“What? I’m just curious who my competition is!”

Julia narrows her eyes at Carmen, and Carmen tries to reign in her amusement, covering her mouth to keep her comments to herself.

“She is tall - six feet, give or take an inch, olive skin, thin, with long dark hair and large dark eyes. No more than 150lbs.”

Carmen tilts her head. “You sound like you’re describing a perpetrator, not a pretty girl.” And then she holds her hands up in a surrendering motion when Julia’s forehead creases in frustration, “Sorry, sorry. What else?”

“There isn’t much else. She’s not from here, has a British accent, and implied she’ll be leaving soon.”

“San Diego gets a lot of tourists.”

“There was something odd about it,” Julia insists, running an anxious hand through her hair. “I just can’t place my finger on what.”

Carmen draws Julia into a hug, smoothing her hair away so that it stops tickling her nose. “When everyone gets back, let’s call Player. We can spend the afternoon figuring out who this person is.”

Julia, seemingly heartened by that, pulls free and kisses Carmen’s jaw. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Carmen retorts, and then turns to the doughnut boxes. “Double thank-you.”

Julia grins and takes down a few plates from the cabinet. She and Carmen secure two doughnuts each before Julia calls up the stairs, “Devineaux! Doughnuts!”

The stairs clatter as the long-limbed man takes them three at a time. “ _Finalement_!” he exclaims, forgoing the plate to shove a bavarian creme into his mouth with minimal preamble.

* * *

Carmen gets the appeal of farmers’ markets. Hell, she’s spent hours upon hours in open-air markets and bazaars all over the world. But there’s something odd about this San Diego farmers’ market a mile from their home.

It’s pretentious, for one.

God, Carmen hates pretentious.

She hangs back near a stand selling hemp products, taking advantage of the awning to block the Sunday afternoon sun. Julia is looking at produce across the thoroughfare, her cheeks glowing red.

 _The back of her neck is going to burn,_ Carmen thinks with a little frown. She glances at the strands again, trying to see if any are selling homemade sunscreen lotions.

It’s then that her gaze falls on someone.

A woman. Tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes.

Carmen swallows. She doesn’t dare move her eyes from the woman as she reaches up to her earpiece, pressing a fingernail into the communicator’s groove. “Player. We’re at the farmers’ market, and so is Miu.”

“Oh, hell,” Player mutters. His fingers start clacking across his keyboard. “I still haven’t found anything suspicious on her, Red.”

“Tell me her details one more time,” Carmen requests. She takes her chance and looks away from the woman, trying to follow Miu’s gaze.

She follows it directly to Julia.

“Player?” Carmen presses, insistent this time. Her gaze returns to Miu while she eases a little further behind a hanging hemp bag.

“S-sure. Miu Khatri, 22, born and raised in London. Japanese-Indian, her parents were refugees, she graduated from college at eighteen - prodigy by all accounts.”

“You haven’t found anything else?”

“She’s won four national chess tournaments. At seventeen, she built robotic ravens to scare off pests in underdeveloped farming communities.”

“What’s she doing now? Is she working?”

“I don’t know.”

Carmen bites down an expletive. “Thanks, Player.”

“I’ll let you know the second I have something.”

“Thanks,” Carmen murmurs, clicking off her comm.

Carmen looks away, finding Julia exactly where she was just moments ago - now she’s surveying a batch of late-season blackberries. Nothing is wrong - everyone is smiling and laughing and perusing.

Carmen’s gaze swings around to find Miu -- but she’s gone.

Because of course she is.

A hand falls on Carmen’s upper arm, and she whirls around, ready to strike.

Only to find herself staring into a pair of very familiar brown eyes.

“Gray?” she whispers, confused, and then blinks. “Graham. What are you -- how are you here?”

He grins at her with the flawless smile that used to reassure her after every rough tango with Shadowsan. “Well, there’s this thing called an aeroplane. I just found out about them, myself,” he teases her.

“Oh, yep, forgot about those.” Carmen tries for sarcasm, but it falls a bit flat. Panic can do that.

“I’m here for a conference,” he explains. Carmen arches a brow - he’s moved up in the world if he’s attending conferences. She can’t think on it, though, because he continues, “What’re you doing here?” He sounds pleased - excited, even. “Are you stalking me again? Need my help on some new project?”

“No, I…” She doesn’t know what to say. She can’t tell him that she lives in San Diego. The very fact that he’s here is putting her - _and him!_ \- in so much danger that it’s making Carmen physically ill. “I don’t-”

“Carmen?”

Carmen’s gaze passes over Gray’s shoulder, eyes locking with Julia’s.

“Jules,” Carmen quickly says, using her girlfriend as the excuse needed to put some distance between her and Gray. “Graham, this is my girlfriend, Julia. Julia, this is an old friend. Graham.”

Julia’s eyes widen just a fraction, understanding making the colour fade from her cheeks ever-so-slightly. “O-oh, it’s nice to meet you, Graham.”

“You, too!” he says, shaking her hand with a firm but gentle handshake. “Wow, no wonder Carmen kept turning me down for those dates.”

“Dates?” Julia repeats.

Carmen rolls her eyes toward the sky. For a split second, she forgets how dangerous this is. For a split second, things feel normal. Like they’re friends bumping into one another a couple of years after school.

But this isn’t that. It never can be if Carmen wants all three of them to stay safe.

“So, we actually have to get going,” Carmen interrupts.

“You’re always running off the second I show up,” Gray notes with that stupidly-sweet smile. “A guy’s gonna start to wonder if he’d done something in a previous life.”

“What did you just say?” Carmen asks, every muscle in her body clenching.

Gray’s grin fades - he looks worried. “It was just a joke... Like, my past life must have done something to your past life?”

Julia forces a laugh, but it’s steeped in awkwardness. ”I’m so sorry, Graham - Carmen doesn’t do well in the sun for too long, and I’ve kept us out.” She takes Carmen’s wrist in her hand, tugging her away. “We’ll see you later!”

“How?” Graham calls back. “I don’t have your number!”

“Don’t,” Carmen begs Julia, but Julia is too sweet. Julia knows how much Gray means to Carmen.

Julia returns to Gray’s side, storing his number in her burner phone before bidding him goodbye. Carmen takes Julia’s hand, and they weave their way in and out of crowds, streets, alleys, and finally -once they are sure no one is following them or could have- they return home.

Carmen sends a text to the entire team.

_family meeting in 2 hours  
  
_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sunny days i'd miss you  
> [(yes it haunts me)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Myi1bABePlQ)


	10. The Suburbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Ten, in which Julia plans a dinner date.

* * *

  
"I did something."

That's what Julia says when Carmen and Shadowsan return from scouting the docks that afternoon. No preamble, no indication what the topic is about to be. Just _I did something.  
_

"Is it bad?" Carmen asks, wiping a hand over her brow, stopping the beading sweat at her hairline. God, does it ever cool off in this state?

"That is up for debate," Julia replies vaguely.

Shadowsan, on the other hand, cuts right to the matter of things. "Is it something that affects all of us?"

"Not unless you need us here this evening."

Pleased to be removed from this particular drama, Shadowsan gives a small nod of his head before leaving the discussion entirely. He goes to the kitchen, and Carmen can hear him pouring water from the pitcher.

"So, where are you taking me tonight, Jules?" Carmen asks, dropping her voice a little, encouraged that Julia wants to go somewhere. It's been a while since they've had a date night, given everything that's happened. But Julia's been feeling better recently - she even helped Player select the next caper, presenting it to the team herself.

Wednesday evening, they're Canada-bound.

"Somewhere very spontaneous," Julia drawls out. She looks embarrassed, and that makes Carmen's brow furrow.

"Jules?"

Julia rolls her eyes to the ceiling as if it might help her find the words she wants. Finally, she murmurs, "We're going somewhere you might think is...a bad idea."

"Is it one of those escape rooms? I'm telling you, we'd be out of there so fast they'd give us a refund."

"It's dinner."

Carmen is still confused. "Why would that be a bad idea?"

Shadowsan comes back into the living room, eyeing them suspiciously before continuing on his path toward the dojo, water in hand. Carmen waits until Shadowsan is out of earshot -which takes more distance than for most- then she presses, "Jules, the suspense is going to kill me."

Julia clears her throat and brushes a wisp of hair from her forehead. "I contacted Graham."

"Julia!"

"And we're having dinner with him."

"No, we're not."

"We are," Julia replies, tone firm. "He was your best friend, Carmen-"

"Yeah, and then he got mind-wiped."

Julia thins her lips. "And _now_ he's just like us. Well...not like _us_ ," she corrects when Carmen arches a brow at her. "But he's under the radar." Carmen doesn't answer right away, so Julia continues. "He will only be in town until tomorrow afternoon, and then who knows when you will see him again."

Carmen opens her mouth and then closes it. She runs a hand over the back of her neck, biting her lower lip while she considers it. It's too risky. Graham got out - it isn't fair for her to drag him back in, even if it's only surface-deep. He deserves better.

But Julia is looking at her with intensity. According to her expression, the _please_ was just a formality - Julia isn't going to take no for an answer.

"You're so stubborn," Carmen groans, sinking onto the couch.

"You knew that going into things."

"I did," Carmen admits with a half-smile. "I didn't expect to see it used against _me_ , though."

"We're living together now, Ms Sandiego. Prepare to see much more of it."

"Good thing I love challenges," Carmen grins as Julia settles herself onto her lap.

Julia snorts out a response. "So we will go?"

It isn't actually a choice -Julia has made that quite clear- but the psychiatrist told Carmen to be more vocally supportive, so she will be. "I'm yours all night; if that means you want to spend it with a guy who can't even remember we knew each other…" she pauses for dramatic effect. "Then I suppose that's what we're doing."

She relishes the smug look that crosses Julia's face now that her battle is won. She relishes in the woman's open adoration, too. Carmen leans in to secure a kiss -the first of many- but Julia gets to her feet before Carmen can put thought into action.

"Good girl," Julia praises, kissing Carmen on the forehead before heading into the kitchen.

Carmen groans, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. A slow smile creeps into place, though, when Carmen considers how well the night could actually go.

She has missed Gray.

_Graham._

* * *

  
"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Carmen asks when the navigation system politely encourages her to turn into a gated community.

Julia looks surprised, as well. She checks the nav, nodding. "I put in the address correctly. Unless Graham mistyped, we are going the right way."

"Okay then," Carmen breathes, rolling down the window to offer the gatekeeper a dazzling smile. "Hi, sorry, our friend is supposedly staying here? Gra-"

The guard opens the gate without any further information, pointedly turning their back to the car and returning to their post.

"What the hell?" Carmen mumbles. The window rolls up, and Carmen edges the car further into the subdivision.

The place is massive and idyllic, indistinguishable from any Hollywood backdrop. Every house is a cookie-cutter picture of perfection with manicured lawns and tasteful flowerbeds.

Carmen can't understand what she's seeing. Or, more specifically, she can't understand how Graham fits into what she's seeing. "First he's going to conferences, and now he's renting houses in the suburbs."

Julia fidgets in her seat, keen eyes glancing from one yard to another. "It's so quiet."

Carmen's foot lets up on the gas pedal; the car smoothly coasts. "Wouldn't it suck to live like this?" she asks to take her mind off of the strange feeling creeping along her skin.

Julia smiles a little, glancing over at Carmen. "I can't imagine you being in a place like this. Re-decorating awnings to match the changing seasons."

Carmen snorts at the mental image. "Mowing the lawn."

"Doing rummage sales," Julia giggles.

The mood lightens again, and Carmen's foot speeds their course. They glance into houses whose lights illuminate families inside. There's a game-night going on at 19161. A girl plays the violin in a second-storey window at 19166. An argument whispers through the air from an open window at 19169.

There's life here. Just...not the life Carmen thought Graham would be a part of.

They park on the wide street outside of the address Graham supplied. Before Carmen can so much as grab the wine bottle from the backseat, the house's door opens.

Graham's silhouette is recognisable. His warm, beckoning gesture is, too. "You made it!" he calls, his voice filling the late-summer silence.

Carmen gets the bottle of wine, meets Julia at the sidewalk, and the pair saunter their way toward Graham.

"I'm so glad you called," Graham says the second the women reach him. He goes for Julia, taking her hands in his own. "I never thought you two would meet with me, to be honest."

Julia beams, turning to tease Carmen with a "Nonsense! I so rarely get to meet someone from Carmen's past." _Without them trying to kill me,_ is something she doesn't say, but Carmen hears it anyway.

"I'm not a huge part of her past," Graham says, tossing a wink at Carmen, "but I do feel like I've known her my whole life. Isn't that weird?"

He turns and leads them into the house. The entry hall is narrow, but it opens into a wide kitchen and dining room. The glass table stretches out in front of a bay window where two sconces of incense fill the room with a spicy, heady scent.

It's lovely, but there's something off-putting; Carmen can't place her finger on what it is.

"It's totally Uncanny Valley in here, right?" Graham laughs, grabbing three wine glasses and a corkscrew. "Looks like we're in one of those family sit-coms, you know?" He takes the wine from Carmen while she's busy trying to understand why she feels so unsettled.

"Graham, whose house is this?" Carmen asks, pretending her furtive exploration of the room is out of curiosity and not out of concern.

"Hmm? Oh, it was from one of the home-away apps. Not really sure - my girlfriend took care of the booking."

Carmen slowly turns around, gaze sweeping over the kitchen and dining area. "Girlfriend?" she repeats, tone even. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"Carmen?" Julia murmurs, her voice edged with concern. Tension. She's picking up on something, too. In an undertone, she notes, "There isn't any food."

The dinner was slated for ten minutes ago, but there is nothing to be seen or smelled other than wine and incense.

Julia puts a hand to her forehead, looking a little faint. Carmen's head buzzes like a beehive. Her fingers, too. Everything is going strange around the edges.

"Ah, yeah, it's kinda new," Graham is saying about his girlfriend, shrugging and uncorking the bottle. "She's great, though. You'll like her."

"Is she here?" Carmen asks, discreetly moving to put herself between Julia and Graham. None of this is right, but Carmen's brain is too foggy to put it all together.

Until she meets Graham's eyes. He's dropped his good-host act, pushing the wine aside and opening a cabinet at his knees. A fitted gas-mask -something undeniably of Bellum's creation- thunks against the counter. A crackle-rod follows suit.

Julia leans against Carmen, but not from panic - the incense is buckling her knees. Carmen supports her weight as best as she can while still keeping herself between Julia and Graham.

No. Not Graham. Not Gray.

Carmen forces a smile that is far from pleasant. "Hey, Crackle."

Crackle breaks a grin that looks like him - the old him. The one who loved the thrill of a match well-fought and well-won. "Hey, Black Sheep."

It's getting harder for her to breathe, but Carmen still manages a little chuckle. "So VILE called you back into action?"

"You should have known it was coming."

He's right. "It's not very nice to invite someone over to break bread and then poison them."

"Bit dirty, isn't it?"

"Why does VILE want Julia, too?"

"What?" he laughs. "We don't want anything to do with the ACME flunk-out, but you brought her here, and now we need to deal with it. I can't let her hop off and tell your friends, can I?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Julia mumbles, but she's already unsteady on her feet. She won't last much longer with the incense still curling its way through the room.

"Crackle, let her go."

"Ask me nicely."

Carmen grits her teeth with enough force that she might crack enamel. "Please. Let Julia leave."

Crackle pretends to think about it, and then he smiles that sweet, boyish grin. "Could never say no to you, could I? Alright, how about this? If she gets out of the door within ten seconds, she's free. Does that sound fair?"

Carmen swallows. "I'm guessing I can't negotiate myself out of this, too?"

"Yeah, no," he drawls, pulling the gas-mask over his face. His voice comes out metallic when he speaks. "The way she's wobbling around, her getting out of here at all is looking dicey."

Carmen turns to Julia, cupping her face and forcing her to make eye contact. "You need to go. Right now."

"One," Crackle begins the countdown.

"Julia. Go."

"Two."

"I'm not-"

"Three."

"You have to get out of here so you can tell the others."

"Four."

At those words, Julia stiffens, finally giving in. She pulls another kiss from Carmen -one that lasts for two seconds- and then she tears herself free, stumbling for the door.

But the door opens from the outside before Julia can reach it. A tall woman with dark hair and dark eyes steps into the hallway, right up to Julia.

"Nice to bump into you again," the woman greets before pushing Julia into the wall. Julia's head bounces off of the plaster; she goes limp, body lolling toward the ground.

Carmen shrieks, already mid-leap. But Crackle reaches her before she can do anything else. Electricity hits her system as he shoves a metal rod into her back. Carmen's enraged howls turn to jumbled shouts and grunts of agony as the pulses ride through her body.

She jitters on the floor while gas-masked Crackle steps over her, snapping, "We were supposed to let her go! That's how we'd get the others!"

Carmen's eyelids flutter, a wave of vertigo making her nearly vomit. She curls in on herself, coughing and gasping, each motion and breath little explosions of agony.

She loses consciousness to the sight of Miu.

Miu lifts Julia over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, murmuring, "It's not a big deal, Crackle. Plans are more like suggestions in the grand scheme of things."  
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you always seemed so sure  
> that one day we'd be fighting  
> in a suburban war  
> [your part of town against mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToNBGOoE3S4)


	11. Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eleven, in which things aren't what they first appear.

  


* * *

  
Carmen wakes up on a comfortable but thin mattress. She doesn't have to open her eyes to know she's in a VILE facility - they all have the same antiseptic smell mixed with something else. Something sharp - like gasoline but not.

She doesn’t move, feigning sleep in case someone is watching. She focuses on keeping her breath calm, her eyes unmoving beneath the lids, limbs languid. 

But she listens, and she feels. 

Vibrations are coming from below her room - her cell, more likely. Carmen wouldn’t have noticed it if the metal bed wasn’t gently thrumming with it. She twitches a finger so that it presses into the metal rail of the headboard. The rumble isn’t too strong, but she can tell it’s from something mechanical and methodical.

She slits her eyelids, scanning her immediate surroundings through her eyelashes. She absent-mindedly hopes that she’s better at feigning sleep than Julia is. The thought makes her want to smile - and then it makes her want to yell.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Julia wasn’t supposed to be in danger. Not _danger-_ danger - not _VILE snatching her_ -level danger. They all knew there was a risk for _Carmen_ , but this? Why would VILE take Julia, too? It doesn’t make sense. Julia isn’t a threat to them - not that they know, anyway.

Carmen’s palms begin to sweat - so do her feet, surprisingly, and she belatedly realises that she isn’t wearing her shoes or socks. A momentary unbidden -and quite silly, given the circumstances- worry hits her. _Oh God, I’m not naked, am I?_

But no, she’s not. She can feel loose linen over her arms, and more on her legs. The unfamiliarity of the cloth tells her that they took her clothes -and her tools- and redressed her. 

She shifts a little, making sure to keep it sleep-like, and rolls over. The bed is in the corner, she discovers. Her arm now presses between her chest and a cold stone wall. 

It’s a very typical cell, then. 10x10, given what little Carmen could piece together through her eyelashes. Bright light above her - probably set high into the ceiling and covered with blast-proof plexiglass, if she had to guess.

She hears a door open and close a little down the hall from her. Carmen remains quiet, remains still.

Two pairs of feet. One sure-footed, heavy, and the other lighter. Stumbling. Carmen listens to the room beside hers open. She listens to how one of the people is tossed into it, how they let out a pained groan, probably slamming into the bed. And then the heavy tread comes toward Carmen’s cell.

“How are we feeling today, Black Sheep?”

Carmen doesn’t react, but it takes a lot of willpower. So, that’s Crackle. He is here. Is Miu? Does Miu have Julia, or…

Is that Julia right next to her? The one breathing a little awkwardly as if she’s hurt?

“C’mon,” Crackle groans. “There’s no way you’re sleeping.” Carmen doesn’t move. “Fine, you want me to call you _Carmen_ instead? Will that make you happy? Black Sheep grew up and resents her past so much she can’t even talk to her best friend?” 

_c’mon, black sheep!  
_ _she remembers him calling back to her  
_ _sliding down the hill, tearing up the vegetation  
_ _laughing  
_ _crackle-rod sending sparks each time he stabs it at the trees  
_ _calling for her  
_ _and she follows because he’s her best friend  
_ _he’s her whole world  
_ _he’s the only one who sees her  
_ _and loves her for who she is_

And now he’s this. 

And it isn’t his fault.

The tears are hot and unbidden, squeezing out between her clenched eyelids. But she doesn’t move. She refuses to move.

It’s quiet for a long while, and then Crackle groans. “Fine. You have seven more hours to ignore me, and then you’ll be someone else’s problem.”

Someone else’s problem.

Camen isn’t sure what bothers her more - that she’s become a _problem_ for her oldest friend, or that someone else is going to take over soon. 

Crackle sets something outside of the bars -a bottle of water by the crinkly, sloshing sound of it- and then he’s leaving. His boots make deep _thunks_ as he goes, and now Carmen can hear the soft noises in the cell beside hers.

“Carmen?” the voice whispers, and Carmen’s insides run cold.

“Julia?” she gasps, on her knees, hands on the wall between them. It’s solid stone - she can’t do anything but caress it as she whispers, “Jules, are you okay?”

“Broken rib,” she replies with a choked, unamused laugh. “I think -- there might be a concussion, too, but I don’t know how long...how long have we been here? _Where_ is here?”

“I don’t know,” Carmen admits, and it tears her apart. “But we’ll figure this out.”

“I know,” Julia whispers, but there’s something strange in her voice. Carmen closes her eyes and puts her head against the cold wall, willing the tears to wait until they’re free.

* * *

  
Julia wakes up with a pounding headache in the middle of a pasture. 

This isn’t what she was expecting to wake up to, but it could be worse, she supposes. 

Until she realises that she’s been stripped down to her underwear, left nothing to cover herself with other than a sheet. She blinks at it, blinks at her surroundings, and then lets out a groan.

Her earpiece is gone - that was to be expected, though. VILE wouldn’t just drop her off somewhere remote and leave her a way to communicate. She’s also missing her purse and all of her identification. 

Oh, and her clothes.

“Stupid VILE,” she mutters under her breath, getting to her feet and pulling the sheet around her. The sun is rising high in the sky - they must have drugged her to keep her asleep that long.

“Where in the world am I?” she asks the sky.

The sky doesn’t answer, but a moo comes from off in the distance. 

“Right,” she mumbles, reassessing the pasture, straightening her glasses. “At least they left my shoes.” And the tracking device sewn into them.

And so she begins walking toward the road, following it west.  
  


* * *

  
It’s nearly nightfall. Julia is exhausted, sunburnt, and starving. She’d probably be in a better situation if she hadn’t actively avoided the few cars she saw on the mostly-abandoned road, but she can’t afford questions right now. She just can’t.

As the sun is just about to fall beneath the horizon, a black SUV comes toward her. It flashes its lights three times - _blink blink bliiiink!_ \- and Julia releases a breath of relief. The SUV goes a bit past before u-turning and stopping beside her.

She opens the door without prompting, and Devineaux smiles at her. “I got us McDonald’s!” he announces as if that is the most important thing right now.

To be fair, it’s music to Julia’s ears. She gets into the truck and moans in relief. “ _M_ _on Dieu.”_ She turns around in her seat, seeing a pile of clothes in the back. She grabs the tee -one of Carmen’s, big and comforting- and pulls it over her head. 

“ _Es-tu fatigué?_ ”

Julia can only nod in response. She buckles her seatbelt and reaches for the bag of fast food at her feet. She’s never been a fan of the restaurant before, but it tastes fantastic on an empty stomach. “How is Carmen?” she asks after a few mouthfuls of a burger. “Do we know where she is?”

 _“Oui._ All is as we planned,” Devineaux assures her - he doesn’t sound too concerned, either, so she’ll take his word for it.  
  


* * *

“Carmen?”

It’s the first time Julia’s spoken in minutes, and Carmen’s body jolts in response. “I’m here, Jules.”

Silence. And then, “They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?”

“No,” Carmen insists even though this doesn’t seem like VILE at all. Why would they bring Julia here if they didn’t plan on sending her to the same fate as Carmen? They would never pull a civilian into this unless they were sure that civilian had no way of exposing them. Bringing attention to them.

“They...they said they’re going after my mother.”

Carmen shakes her head. “No - Jules, no, they won’t do that. They won’t. That would bring too much attention, and-”

A sudden, harsh noise breaks through Carmen’s stammering. Carmen immediately knows what it is because she’s heard it after every traumatic nightmare Julia’s had. 

She’s crying. Carmen’s soulmate is right beside her, a mere wall away, weeping. And Carmen can’t do anything about it.

“Jules,” Carmen begins, but Julia cuts her off.

“Don’t talk to me,” she sobs. These sobs are different than usual - completely and utterly broken, devoid of love, devoid of everything that makes Julia _Julia._

Carmen’s own tears clog in her throat, but she doesn’t dare cry them. Instead, she sits with her knees to her chest and listens to her lover’s heart fracture. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, because this is not at all what any of them planned.

* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ll put on a performance  
> [i’ll put on a show](https://youtu.be/ziI0FB7jEjU)


End file.
